


This Time the Dream's on Me

by Muccamukk



Series: Post-War Dreaming [1]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angry Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Farmhouse of Love, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Lancaster - Freeform, Lewis Nixon Is Trying to Be Less of a Fuck Up, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Needy Dick Winters, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 10:11:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14932265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: April 1946. When Dick breaks up with Lew at the end of the war and then stays in Pennsylvania instead of taking the job at Nixon Nitration, Lew assumes it's over between them and that Dick is going to move on with his life. On an Easter visit to Lancaster, Lew finds Dick depressed and isolated and can't resist trying to rekindle their old relationship and to find some way to help Dick out.





	This Time the Dream's on Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amongthieves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amongthieves/gifts).



> Written as a pinch hit for [Easy Company Summer Fic Exchange](https://easycoficexchange.tumblr.com) as a gift for AmongThieves. I hope you like it!
> 
> This fic includes some mild period-typical and internalised homophobia. It also contains alcohol abuse (Nix), depression (Dick and Nix), shitty parental relationships (Stanhope), and some rough sex and dirty talk (everything is consensual).
> 
> Huge thank you to actonbell for generating the idea that led to this fic, cheerleading and for beta reading, to kunstvogel for cheerleading and listening to me go on about it for three weeks, and to Nenya for all the Dick jokes. It wouldn't have happened without you three!
> 
> Heavily referenced: _Lancaster Farming_ (which started ten years too late, but oh well), _Beyond Band of Brothers_ , _The Biggest Brother_ , _James Tiptree Jr.: The Double Life of Alice B. Sheldon_ (thanks again, Acton), the _Cobb Hatchery Management Guide_ , a bunch of random shit off Archive.org and wikipedia, and Damian Lewis's face. Title is from the jazz standard by Johnny Mercer. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> ETA: [Kuns made me art!](https://easycoficexchange.tumblr.com/post/174893738883/artwork-by-kunst-vogel-for-this-time-the-dreams)

**Maundy Thursday**

Lew had, on the whole, generally made his best decisions a few drinks in. For example, while he had been drafted, and therefore not decided to join the military, he had showed up at the induction centre while three sheets to the wind and said that he'd wanted to be a GI, and he'd definitely been pretty far gone when he'd let Dick Winters talk him into signing up with the paratroopers. He'd also had more than a few on what turned out to be D-Day minus one when he'd decided that he didn't want to die not having come clean and told the same Dick Winters that he wanted to kiss him. In contrast, he'd proposed to both Kathy and Irene while stone cold sober, and he'd also been pretty well sober when he'd offered Dick that job working for Nixon Nitration. While the first three decisions had worked out pretty well for Lew, at least until the end of the war, the latter three had resulted in divorce, rejection and, for the sake of variety, more rejection.

So it was probably for the best that he was three scotches along when he rang Dick, at work, and invited himself down to Lancaster for Easter. Granted, Dick hadn't sounded that enthusiastic, but the scotch had helped with that too. Lew ignored him and said that he'd pick Dick up after work on Thursday, and then forgotten to ask when he clocked out.

Which was how he ended up parked outside a disturbingly rundown agricultural implement factory for four hours on a perfectly sunny Maundy Thursday.

When Dick trudged out at half past seven, it took Lew a minute to spot him in the midst of the other workers. He'd been looking for the upright, soldierly man he'd known at the end of the war, the one who'd worn his Class As to the job interview with Lew's dad. The one who'd walked right back out of that interview shoulders squared and head held high, and not looked at Lew in the eye then or since. Lew still didn't know what had happened between Dick and Stanhope Nixon. Whatever it had been, it'd sent Dick scampering back to Pennsylvania and a factory job that'd made him stooped-shouldered and shuffling in under four months.

Lew, who'd stayed mostly dry on the drive up, hopped out and came around the car to open Dick's door for him. Dick didn't look him in the eye then either. Lew didn't know if that was because he didn't want to look at him, or because he didn't have the strength to raise his head.

"Nice car," Dick said as Lew slid back into the driver's seat. Dick's voice was rough, but the sarcasm came through just fine.

Lew was not rising to the bait. He patted the dash of the brand new Roadmaster convertible, which was sky blue and stood out like a meteor in the middle of Lancaster's industrial section, and said, "Isn't it?"

Dick just sighed, and Lew turned the key and let the purr of the engine do his talking for him.

"Where to?" Lew asked, and let Dick direct him along a series of side streets to an apartment block that looked like it had been put up before the tenement reforms had even been considered. Lew started worrying about his car.

Dick must have caught his expression, because he said, defensively, "They're good people here, Nix. Working people."

Apparently he wanted to start that again, but Lew wasn't rising to that one either. He was starting to wonder why he'd come. He'd gotten quite enough of being silently judged back in January, before and after the job interview. "Fine," he said, but he locked the doors after Dick got out.

He made sure to keep his expression completely blank as he followed Dick through a foyer that smelled like piss, and up two flights of stairs that also smelled like piss, down a hallway that made an improvement into mildew, and into a postage-stamp apartment that was aggressively lemon detergent scented. Dick switched on the light, hung his hat by the door, and watched Lew with his mouth fixed in a thin line and his jaw lifted, ready to take a hit or to throw a punch, as need be. Lew's eyes flicked over the second-hand couch and desk, the counter with its hotplate, and the bed behind a half wall. It had, at least, its own toilet. The last few rays of the setting sun caught sideways through the curtains, highlighting the grime on the outside of the window.

Lew didn't say a goddamn word, just hung his hat next to Dick's and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Dick still nodded to himself like something awful yet expected had been confirmed. "Want a sandwich?" he asked.

"Sure," Lew said. He'd stopped for lunch in some shitty little roadside dinner, but that had been a while ago. He leaned against the wall and watched Dick slice bread and ham, and spread mustard thickly on both halves. He fished the last two pickles out of a jar, and that was, apparently, dinner. Lew felt bad for eating him out of house and home, but knew there was no point trying to take Dick out. He looked too tired, for one.

When Dick had come down to New York four months ago, he'd been closed, a little pale, and far too quiet. Now, well, he'd looked better the day Patton had rolled into Bastogne. His freckles showed up dark on his sallow skin, and the rings under his eyes were deep and smudged like bruises. More than the weariness, the blankness struck Lew. He couldn't put words to it, but something that he thought of as essentially Dick Winters, that had let Lew recognise his tread in dark woods on a moonless night, wasn't there.

"So," Dick said. They were halfway through their sandwiches, Dick standing at the counter and Lew still leaning against the wall, and it seemed as though Dick had just remembered that one talked to long lost friends. "How have you been?"

Lew shrugged. He was not, currently, his favourite topic. "You know me," he said, "struggling, but somehow I get by."

That'd used to get at least a trace of a smile out of Dick, but he just nodded again. "How's Irene?"

"You know, I have no idea," Lew said, managing not to wince. He wouldn't lie and say that one hadn't hurt. "She decided the Nixon family fortune wasn't worth crossing the Atlantic. Anyway, it's done." That wasn't fair. Kathy had been the fortune hunter. Irene had been kind, kinder than Lew deserved, but she'd also known a bad bet when she'd seen one. Before Dick could comment on that—and Lew wasn't sure which would have been worse, scorn or sympathy—Lew asked, "How have you been?"

"Fine," Dick said, like it was a reflex. "Working, mostly."

For all that Dick seemed to hold industriousness up with cleanliness and godliness, he didn't sound too happy about that. Lew didn't press. Work was something of a sore point between them. Most things were, actually. Talking to Dick was starting to feel like navigating a minefield. He finished his appalling sandwich before he asked, "Seeing anyone?"

"No," Dick said shortly. "Too much work. Seems like I mostly sleep on the weekends." Behind the wall next to Dick's bed, booted feet thumped down the stairwell, then three or four sets followed, low voices barely muffled. "When I can," Dick added, mouth twitching like he was trying to smile, but not quite making it. "Shift change at the meat packing plant." There'd be traffic up and down those stairs all hours, then.

Dick didn't look like he'd been sleeping at all, and Lew wanted to ask how he could keep doing this, what about that damn job was better than what Lew had offered, what about Lew's dad had driven him away, what Dick's plans were to get out of this mess. Only Lew knew he didn't want to know the answers to a couple of those questions, and that Dick likely didn't want to answer any of them. He just didn't know what to say in the end. He missed the easy understanding that they'd had during the war.

Some of that old accord must have survived. Dick seemed to read Lew's expression again, no matter how much he tried to keep it closed, and said, "I don't know why you wanted to come down, Nix."

"I wanted to see you," Lew said. He didn't have words to describe how lonely it had been without Dick in New Jersey. God help him, some days he wished they were still at war, so he had an excuse.

Dick gave that little head shake again, this one saying that he'd always known Lew was a little off and this just confirmed it. His mouth tightened in distaste, and he tried again. "There's not going to be anything for you to do here. Unless you want to go to church or have Sunday lunch with my family."

Lew definitely didn't want to do either, but he said, "I'd like to meet your family." Dick narrowed his eyes, like he was trying to work out what ulterior motives were in play, and then his mouth twisted down, and Lew knew he was picturing what Lewis Nixon III was going to do in the face of Dick's Republican father and Mennonite mother. Lew had figured out that both Dick's parents had been strongly against Dick taking the job in New Jersey, but then they'd also set him up with the factory job he clearly despised, so what did they know about their son? "I'll be on my best behaviour," Lew added. "Sober as a judge." God really would need to help him on that one. Maybe that's what the church part was for.

"Good Friday service?" Dick asked. He really could be pushy bastard when he put his mind to it.

"Ha. No," Lew said. The Episcopalians were bad enough on the blackest day of the Church's year. He didn't want to know what Lutherans did. "You're welcome to take the Buick."

Dick very nearly smiled at that, but not quite. "I have a ride," he said. They were still standing fixed in the positions they'd taken when Dick had made sandwiches, even though they'd finished eating. Lew didn't know that either of them could move now. They were watching each other too closely for some sign of Christ knew what, and any breaking away could be a blow. Lew could see Dick trying to think of something to say to fill the space, or to make it okay between them, but he looked as blank as Lew felt. Finally, he said, "You can have the bed if you like."

"Where will you sleep?"

"Couch. Floor. Something." Dick rubbed his eyes and looked like he could sleep right where he was, leaning against the peeling Formica counter. He was clearly too tired to think anything through, and maybe he was too tired to know what he was doing, but Lew didn't think so.

"Jesus, fuck that," Lew said. He pushed off the wall and closed the space between them. He cupped one hand along Dick's jaw, took hold of his upper arm with the other, and said, "We can share the bed."

Dick gasped, like Lew had hit him right in the solar plexus and he'd forgotten how to breathe, but he didn't try to pull away from Lew's touch. "I thought," Dick paused, licking his lips. "I, uh, thought we weren't doing that any more. Now that we're home."

"I thought you wanted to get married," Lew answered, not moving either. "I thought I wanted to get married again. Now..." Now they were both more alone than they'd ever been, worse than ever because they knew what true understanding felt like in a way they hadn't before OCS four years ago. "If you still want to leave this in the ETO, say the word, and I'll take the couch."

"I..." Dick squeezed his eyes shut. It was too difficult a choice for him to make, and Lew felt like shit for asking it of him, now at all times. "I just want to sleep, Nix."

"Then we'll sleep," Lew said. He took the last step forward and pulled Dick into his arms, and suddenly he felt as though he could breathe after holding a pillow over his face since he'd shipped back to the States. He hadn't forgotten how well they fit together, how his chin slid perfectly onto Dick's shoulder, and his arms could circle the small of Dick's back and feel just right; it was just that he'd been trying not to think about it. "Hey," he said, just a whisper into Dick's ear.

"Oh," Dick moaned and pressed his face into Lew's hair. He didn't say anything else, just breathed slowly and steadily, clutching Lew's shoulders. Lew kissed his neck just above his collar, tasting perspiration and a trace of machine oil, and Dick's breath caught. For a moment, Lew thought he was going to cry, thought maybe they both were, but then Dick pulled away. "All right," was all he said.

It was enough. Lew stripped out of his jacket and tie, and then unbuttoned his shirt enough to pull it over his head. He toed his shoes off and shimmied out of his pants, so that he was standing in his undershirt, shorts and socks, in front of Dick who was literally wavering on his feet.

Lew didn't ask, he just started peeling Dick out of his clothes, taking more care than he had with his own, well aware that this was probably one of a very few suits he owned. He folded the jacket over the desk chair, and the tie over that. Dick's shoulders trembled when Lew slid his suspenders off, trailing his hands down Dick's arms. His skin felt cool even through the thin cotton of his shirtsleeves. Lew wanted to rub his arms, to kiss him until Dick's body was warm and pliant under him, but that wasn't what Dick had asked for. Instead Lew unbuttoned his shirt, feeling Dick's pulse flutter under his fingertips on that first button. His chest was still lean and muscled like it had been during the war. Lew had thought that Dick would put on weight once he was home with his mother to feed him, but he hadn't, and Lew could feel his ribs as he ran his fingers down his sides and across his stomach to his fly. The room was warm from the evening sun, but Lew's fingers left a trail of goosebumps behind them. He met Dick's eyes for a moment before he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He dropped to his knees to pull Dick's shoes off, and the y-front of his shorts was so close to his face that Lew wanted to nuzzle in and find out exactly how tired Dick really was, but he didn't. Lew let Dick balance on his shoulder as Lew pulled his shoes off and lightly massaged the backs of his calves, rubbing backwards up against Dick's hair, and making him shiver again. He kissed the inside of Dick's thigh, right where his shorts ended, and realised how much he'd missed Dick's legs.

Lew almost worried that he was taking advantage of a friend too tired to turn him down, but when he stood again Dick leaned in and kissed him, lightly and closed-mouthed but on the lips, and Lew knew it was okay. Dick drew him into the bedroom, and folded down the thin blankets and handmade quilt so that Lew could crawl in first. Lew lay with his back to the wall so that Dick could spoon up in front of him and still face the door, like they always had. They fit just right like this too, with Dick's lanky body curling up small inside the circle of Lew's arms as Lew pulled him in tight.

"Missed you, Nix," Dick said, and then fell immediately to sleep.

Lew hadn't been in bed by eight in the evening since Toccoa, and knew he wouldn't sleep for a while, but couldn't bring himself to let go of Dick, not when he had him in his arms for the first time in eight months. He lay quietly, wondering what the hell he was going to do now.

Heavy work boots stomped up the stairs on the other side of the wall, tired men's voices not quite carrying words. Dick stirred in Lew's arms, but fell still when Lew kissed the back of his neck and told him to sleep.

The trust that showed shook Lew badly. He knew that Dick had clung to Lew through three campaigns and an invasion, but that had been when there'd been nothing else onto which to hold. For Dick to want Lew to comfort him in his sleep now, when they were safe and in Dick's hometown, that meant something else. Something that Lew could feel himself wanting, even though he knew it couldn't be his. Not really. Dick was tired, and adrift, and Lew was familiar and at least a little safe. It wouldn't be the same in the morning, and it certainly wouldn't be the same when it came time to finally meet Dick's family.

Lew didn't know what Dick's mother was like, though her son's rhapsodic descriptions made her sound as intimidating as hell, but he did know that Dick meeting Lew's father had just about been the end of their friendship. Maybe it still had been, because Lew couldn't see a way forward. Short of kidnapping, Dick would never go back to Princeton with Lew. If the abduction option had certain attractions, that was only in the face of trying to do something to help Dick here in Lancaster.

He was clearly miserable with what he was doing now, but just as clearly had no plan or hope of a way forward. Dick was almost sleepwalking, and not just from overwork. Lew couldn't quite put a word to the emotion he saw in Dick's eyes now, but he knew it made his heart ache.

Christ, Lew needed a drink, but if he moved it would disturb Dick, who was lying limp and warm in Lew's arms. It felt too good, and Lew couldn't bring himself to get up. Two female voices started a screaming argument in the apartment above, and again Dick stirred, and Lew hushed him. How the hell did Dick get any sleep at all in this rat trap, and why wasn't he living with his family, in the house he'd been so proud of paying for?

Lew didn't sleep for a long time, and when he woke up, the sun was high, and Dick had left for church.

* * *

**Good Friday**

Lew spent the morning engaged in a little light reconnaissance. He had a peanut butter sandwich and a small scotch to get the morning started, then had a look around the place. He probably should have felt more guilty about violating Dick's privacy than he did, but Lew was convinced it was for Dick's benefit. Maybe Dick would be better after a solid night's sleep, but Lew doubted it. That kind of weariness didn't come from just a long work week. Something was going to give, and Lew knew for a fact that it wasn't going to be Dick Winters' stubborn streak.

The small shelf in the bedroom had a clock, the bible that Dick had hauled across Europe, and the German service pistol. Lew checked the cartridge and chamber, but it was unloaded. A quick shuffle through Dick's drawers revealed a tin of Vaseline, his medals, his silk escape map and the dirk he'd worn in Normandy, but no ammunition. Lew didn't know why that was as much of a relief as it turned out to be. Maybe it was just the knowledge that, if their positions were reversed, Lew being stuck in this godawful place with a loaded gun would not have a happy ending. He didn't find any of the other mementoes he remembered Dick collecting in Europe, and there weren't any other books or personal items of note. A narrow wardrobe revealed Dick's Class As, another suit, and three shirts. Dick's jump boots sat at the bottom, spit polished to a mirror finish.

The outer room was even worse, containing a set of pictures of Dick's parents and sister, but no other impression that anyone special lived here. The quilt was the most personal touch in the whole place. Lew hesitated before rifling through the desk, but in the end either his sense of mission or pure curiosity got the better of him. It was only the usual papers, a bundle of letters from that pen pal DeEtta but none recent or from other friends, his army discharge, and, at the very bottom, the folder of pictures from the 101st's regimental photographer. Lew resisted the temptation to look through them, but did another pass to make sure he'd put everything back exactly as it had been.

Lew sighed, and slumped onto the couch. A spring immediately stuck him in the ass, and he moved over, vowing that neither of them was ever going to sleep on the thing. He was no closer to working out how to help Dick than he had been the night before, aside from having a growing urge to set fire to the whole building. Dick's bleak and empty life was exactly as bleak and empty as it had appeared on first impression.

When Dick stomped in twenty minutes later, Lew was sitting on the lumpy couch reading _Lancaster Farming_ cover to cover. He'd just gotten to the classifieds, and noted a circled item, when Dick demanded, "You just get up?"

Lew glanced down at his undershirt and shorts. "More or less," he said, setting aside the paper. "Have you eaten?"

Dick shrugged. "Not today."

There wouldn't be much of anything open on Good Friday, so Lew said, "Let's make sandwiches and go to a park or something." That would clean Dick out of bread and cheese, but Lew could get groceries before he left.

Dick hesitated. He still looked far too tired, Though his face had more colour than it had the night before, he had that straight ahead focus of someone who'd been pushed just a little too far, and couldn't see any end in sight. If given his choice, Dick would probably just want to stay here and sleep through to Sunday. But Lew wondered when the last time was that Dick had seen somewhere with green trees and open sky above him. This was some of the fairest weather they'd had this year, and even though it pained him to be doing something quite this wholesome before noon, Lew had to admit that he wouldn't mind the fresh air either.

"All right," Dick said, finally. "If you like."

Lew had the impression that Dick thought he was saving Lew from an afternoon drinking by himself, which also happened to be true, so he didn't say anything to suggest otherwise. They made cheese and mustard sandwiches, and found two wrinkly apples in a cupboard, and called that a picnic.

The Roadmaster had survived the night, and Lew put the top down so that they could catch the wind in their faces. Dick directed them to a public park down by a winding brown river, and they walked a way without saying anything. Lew lit a cigarette and smoked quietly, trying to let Dick have his space.

Still, Lew couldn't help looking sideways at Dick, trying to see if the sun was helping at all, and finally Dick caught him looking and snapped, "What?"

"It's just good to see you," Lew said. That was true anyway, plus or minus the sickening worry. He'd thought that when Dick had abandoned Lew for home that he'd find something he loved, maybe get that farm he was always talking about, marry DeEtta despite the number of times he said he probably wouldn't. He'd thought that Dick would be happier without Lew. He'd never expected to come down to Pennsylvania and find this.

Dick smiled a little, just half a half smile, but it was the best Lew had seen since he'd arrived. "Yeah, you too, Nix."

Lew moved a little closer so that he could brush his hand against Dick's. They were walking along a dirt path now, lined on either side with shockingly green undergrowth and tall silver-barked trees just beginning to leaf out. The air smelled damp and clean and full of growing things. Lew could see Dick relaxing a little with every step, and was pleased at making the right call. Maybe cheering Dick up was just a matter of airing him out a bit every so often, reminding him that a world existed outside of the factory walls.

"I should come down more often," Lew said.

"That would be nice," Dick said, and smiled again. Lew felt like he was pulling ahead, seconds from winning a race. "But I don't know..." he trailed off, expression closing again. "I'm so tired on the weekends. I wouldn't be much for company. I don't, uh, seem to talk to people much anymore. It doesn't seem..." He sighed and didn't finish the sentence. All at once it came to Lew, the name of the emotion he'd seen haunting Dick's eyes: hopelessness.

Lew glanced quickly up and down the path and finding they had it to themselves, stepped in to wrap his arm around Dick's waist and rest his head on Dick's shoulder. The half embrace only lasted a second, but it was all he could do just then. He wished he could lay Dick out on the long grass and show him how much Lew loved every inch of him, but it wasn't the kind of thing he'd tolerate any more, even in private.

"How come you don't live with your parents?" Lew asked. "You'd see them, get decent chow every night." And Dick practically owned the house. If anyone had a right to live there, it was him.

Dick shook his head and walked a ways before answering. "They think I should be the same as I was before," he said. "It's not their fault, and they try to let me be, but I see them watching, expecting to look at me and see the boy who enlisted in '41, and when they don't... I guess I got tired of disappointing them." Lew had to wonder how much of that was Dick's parents, and how much of that was Dick comparing himself to what he'd been last time he'd walked these streets. "I thought if I got my own place, that I'd have breathing room to figure it all out, but..." He shook his head, and that bleak expression crept back in.

But now he was just alone, Lew thought but didn't say. He thought about that ad that had been circled in _Lancaster Farming_ , but didn't want to bring it up just yet. "I'll come down more often," Lew promised. "Every weekend. You don't have to entertain me, we can just..." he spread his hands to encompass the park and the glory of the day and the stillness of the woods.

That had been the wrong thing to say, it seemed. Dick's jaw tightened and he made a show of studying the flashes of sunlight on water that shone through the undergrowth.

Lew tried to figure out what he'd said wrong. It had seemed like a reasonable offer to him, containing a decent balance of friendship and support and the allowance of independence on Dick's part. They could make it work, and maybe it would tide Dick through until he found his feet and decided what he wanted to do with his life. Lew was pretty sure whatever that was wasn't going to include an idle lush who'd only ever been good for war, so it wouldn't be forever. Maybe it would give Lew time to figure out what the hell he was going to do too.

"It's not worth throwing your life away on this sad sack, Nix," Dick said at last.

"Sure you are," Lew said reflexively, then added in a moment of uncharacteristic honesty. "It's not much of a life anyway." The only reason that Lew didn't feel as lost as Dick looked was the familiar weight in his hip pocket, and its promise of his old friend oblivion. He pulled out the flask and took a drink. He needed one, but he also needed Dick to remember who he was talking to, and why they'd damn near hated each other right at the end of their deployment, and Dick had ended up breaking it off.

Dick looked away, and Lew felt a different, darker kind of victory than he had before.

They rounded a corner and the path dropped to run right alongside the river. Birds that Dick could probably name were singing their first spring songs, and the whole place was so fucking idyllic that Lew took another drink on principle. It took the edge off anyway. Lew flopped on to a patch of thin grass that had probably been covered in snow two weeks before, and reached for the lunch pail Dick was carrying. Anything to turn away from the dark turn their conversation had taken. He was supposed to be cheering Dick up, not reminding him of everything he didn't like about himself, his life, and his ex lover.

Lew fleetingly wondered if maybe they were far enough into the park to risk something more intimate than brushing hands or the briefest of hugs, but he knew that Dick would never dare. He wasn't sure if Dick wanted to return to what they had been at all, let alone in a public place.

"Let's have those sandwiches," Lew said. Dick carefully shrugged out of his jacket and laid it lining down on the ground next to Lew, so that he wouldn't risk staining his pants. He held out the lunch pail, and Lew took his third sandwich in twelve hours without complaint. "What are we doing for dinner?"

"I have some potatoes," Dick said.

Lew waited for him to add something else to eat with the potatoes, and when he didn't, he sighed and said, "At least they're not rehydrated. Then I'd be getting real nostalgic."

"I didn't really plan this," Dick said. Instead of eating, he flopped back onto the grass, folding his arms behind his head and staring up.

"I should have brought groceries," Lew said. He finished the sandwich and fell down next to Dick, looking up at the way the treetops moved against the blue sky. What he really wanted to look at was Dick, but he knew it would be easier to talk if they weren't making eye contact. "I'll remember next time." Next time he'd get his housekeeper to pack enough food for the whole weekend.

He thought maybe Dick would protest his presumptive intention to just keep showing up, or at least offer to go Dutch on the food, but instead Dick just lay there, silent. Lew would have assumed he'd gone to sleep again, except he could almost hear Dick worrying away at some problem. He waited, listening to the early leaves rustle in the breeze and the river roll against the shore.

"I don't seem to be much good at planning lately," Dick said. "I can hold it together at work, because it's all... you just plug it in—estimates, seasons, data from last year, man hours—a machine could do it, and the personnel problems I respond to as they come up. I don't think I'm doing a good job there. They don't expect to be treated like soldiers, and I don't seem to know how else to talk to anyone now. Then after work, I sometimes think I might like to come here, or go see a movie on the weekends, but I can't seem to get out of my apartment. I keep running out of food because I forget to buy it. When I was over there, I thought I would take some classes, maybe an extension from Penn State, but I just... I'm so tired, Nix."

"I know," Lew said, because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"It's why I moved," Dick continued, not seeming to hear. "It's not that I'm not the boy who left, it's that I'm not the man who was at war either. I feel..." He couldn't finish, his voice low and choked.

"It's like you were alive over there," Lew said, "and now you're not."

Dick didn't answer, but Lew knew that he'd struck true. He wished he hadn't. He'd hoped that Dick had been immune to the malaise that had sucked Lew down since the fighting had stopped. Dick had been the one with an education and a job he cared about before the war, and Lew had hoped that Dick would be able to find that again, even if Lew had little optimism in that direction himself. The thought depressed him immensely. If Dick Winters couldn't pull his life together stateside, what hope was there for any of them?

Lew rolled onto his side so that he was facing Dick, and pulled one of the creeping purple flowers out of the grass and tucked it behind Dick's ear, brushing Dick's cheek with the backs of his fingers as he did. "We are still alive," he said. "Christ knows we shouldn't be, but we are."

"No," Dick said. "We shouldn't be." He closed his eyes, and his chest shook as he struggled to hold back tears. He'd always said that if he'd tried harder, more of his boys would have made it back, even though Lew knew for a fact that no man in the entire Allied command could possibly have tried harder than Dick had. Now it seemed like Dick wanted to trade places with one of the heroic dead, thinking it would be easier than this trudge forward into an uncertain future. Lew was suddenly intensely glad of the lack of ammunition in Dick's apartment. Though if it came down to it, he wouldn't need a gun.

"But we are." Lew pressed his palm over Dick's heart, feeling its steady beat through his shirt. "So I guess we're going to have to figure out what to do about that, huh?"

Dick closed his hand over Lew's but didn't answer. Instead his pulled his hat over his eyes and seemed to fall asleep, though his grip said otherwise.

Lew lay next to him and wondered how the fuck he'd managed to make things worse than they'd already been. Clearly taking Dick out for a walk in the sunshine hadn't helped at all. If anything, it seemed to make him sadder, or maybe that was just Lew being unable to be a decent man for more than two sentences at a stretch. If Dick had been out here with his mother or DeEtta, maybe he'd have felt better.

However, there was one thing Lew knew he was good at, and he had hopes for giving that a go that evening.

* * *

They ate the potatoes boiled and served with a jar of some kind of home-made ketchup. It was a change from endless sandwiches, and besides Dick was out of bread. The women upstairs were yelling at each other again, and Lew strongly considered banging on the ceiling, but concluded it wouldn't help.

Instead, he brushed his teeth, stripped down to his skivvies and accosted Dick in his bedroom.

Lew had tried to think of a smooth way to go about this, but they'd never played games in Europe, they'd never had time. For all that they were safe now, and theoretically had the rest of their lives to live, Lew felt the same pressing urgency as he had when they were stealing a moment in a foxhole or a store room.

Dick had been standing in his shorts, sort of staring at the bed like he didn't know what it was for, so Lew decided to remind him. He stepped right into Dick's space and nudged Dick's forehead with his own until their heads were tilted right, and then kissed him. Dick's eyes closed, and his hands came up to Lew's elbows, steadying himself. Lew thought Dick was going to let himself be made love to in the same way he'd let himself be undressed the night before, but when their lips met, Dick surged forward into the kiss. Their teeth bumped, and then the angle worked and it was all open mouthed and sloppy. Dick licked the inside of Lew's teeth and pushed their tongues together, kissing him so fiercely that Lew forgot to breathe.

He broke the kiss long enough to pull Lew's undershirt off, then pushed them both back towards the bed. Lew had to twist sideways to keep from hitting the wall, and tumbled backwards with his legs half on the bed and his head not quite hitting the pillow. Dick straddled his hips and pushed his shoulders into the bed, still kissing him rough and hard. Lew felt as though every emotion that Dick had spent the day not quite admitting to was coming out now, and most of it was anger—anger at Lew, anger at the war and what it had made him, anger at the whole damn world.

Lew squeezed Dick's arms, feeling the ropey muscles tense. The lamplight caught Dick's red hair, brightening it, and cast a yellow glow on his skin. He looked and felt like he was on fire, and Lew let himself be consumed.

He was already hard, and he pushed up into Dick, rubbing himself against the inside of his thighs. Dick rolled his hips, giving him more friction, and but not enough connection. They were still both wearing their shorts, and Lew wanted skin against skin. More than that, he wanted to be inside Dick, and he wanted it right now. He let go of Dick's arms to yank at the band of his shorts, which didn't work at all, but got the message across just fine. A tangle of limbs, and hips arching the wrong way at the wrong time followed, but they both managed to get their shorts off.

Lew had to bite his lip to contain his cry when their cocks finally fucking touched. He closed his hand around both of them and pushed his hips up so that they rubbed together, but they needed some kind of slick for that to work right. The dry friction burned, and Lew would have let go, except that Dick's face screwed up in pain and ecstasy. Lew gritted his teeth and pushed up again, the edge of pain slowing him down, but wanting to do something, anything to shake Dick loose. Dick made a low, half sobbing sound at the contact, but when his eyes opened, and he saw Lew's tight expression he stopped.

"Wait," Dick said, and pulled out of Lew's hold, rolling to the floor. He fished for the Vaseline, then climbed back onto the bed and crouched over Lew's knees. Lew reached for the tin, but Dick pulled it away. He opened it himself and slicked up his fingers before reaching between his own legs and sliding them up his ass. Dick's face screwed up again, a little in pain and a little in focus, as he worked himself open.

Lew wanted to lean up and kiss him, to somehow remind him that this had been compassion between them, not just fucking, but that would unbalance the whole thing. Instead, he whispered, "You are so fucking gorgeous." Dick's eyes flew open, and he stared at Lew like he'd forgotten where he was, so Lew said, "I missed you. I missed this. You're perfect."

Dick looked at him intently—cock hard, one hand braced on Lew's shoulder, the other still inside himself—and in that frozen moment Lew felt himself completely seen through, like Dick had pierced every bit of armour he'd ever worn, and then dismissed it all as a sham. Dick shook his head, that small negation he'd put to Lew's words the day before, and Lew could have wept. Dick thought it was just a line, that Lew was saying it out of guilt, or to make him feel better, or just to get on with things. He'd listened to Lew, and he hadn't believed him.

With shocking suddenness, Dick pulled out of himself and yanked his slicked hand up Lew's cock, coating it root to tip. Lew saw stars, and was so focused on holding back, that he missed Dick keeling forward until the tip of Lew's cock rubbed Dick's asshole. He gasped. Dick sank down onto him too fast, so fast that Dick whined in pain and Lew had to jam his fist in his mouth and bite down hard to keep from screaming. Dick was hot and tight around him and it felt far too good. His body wanted more and now, but his heart ached. He tried to ask Dick to slow down, but he couldn't breathe, and Dick was already rising up off of him. Jesus, it just felt perfect. Dick's strong thighs flexed, and he braced both hands on Lew's shoulders. Lew felt tears building in his eyes at the intensity of his feelings, but couldn't have said what he actually felt. This was what Dick seemed to want, so Lew rode through it. His hips rose almost of their own accord as Dick dropped back down onto his cock, slapping their bodies together, and Lew cried out against his hand. He couldn't seem to keep quiet, though he knew he had to, and he was grateful when Dick pushed Lew's hand out of the way and replaced it with his own, silencing him.

Dick's cock bobbed over his stomach, and Lew took hold of it, pulling and stroking with both hands as Dick rode him. He wanted to make Dick remember, to make him feel something other than this self-immolating lust. It felt too good to try to stop, too good to even ask to stop. Every time Dick rose off of him, he pulled in a small whimpering breath, and his face tightened, and twisted with feelings Lew couldn't name. Then he'd sink down again and seem to settle into himself, sighing and relaxing. His knees pressed into Lew's sides and his hands clung to Lew's shoulders, and Lew didn't think they'd ever come apart now, they were so tangled into each other. He arched his back and thrust up as Dick dropped onto him. And stroked Dick's cock as he pulled away, licking Dick's palm as it muzzled him, and tasting salt and sweat.

"God, Lew," Dick whispered, and Lew wondered if he'd broken free, but he didn't slow or falter. He kept fucking himself on Lew, and Lew kept letting him. The tightness of Dick's ass flexing around him as he rose and fell was more intense than any sex he remembered. He closed his own eyes, blocking out the pain in Dick's face, and rode with the desire pounding through his body. The room filled with the sound of Dick's harsh breaths and the slap of Dick's ass against Lew's thighs. It should have felt shocking and exploitative, but it was Dick doing this to him, and that meant it that whatever was happening, Lew wanted more.

His hands tightened on Dick's cock, pulling him off more roughly than he ever had before, and Dick whined and fucked him faster. His legs flexed and rose off Lew spasmodically now, and Dick's grip on his shoulders tightened. Lew knew Dick was close, and he rolled the ball of his thumb hard over the end of Dick's cock, putting that last edge of pain into sex already too painful. Dick moaned deep in his throat, like he'd been hit—the sound vibrated through both their bodies—and came hard, spurting across Lew's stomach and chest.

Lew's eyes snapped open, wanting to see Dick's face as he came, but his expression was still closed and tight, like he wasn't quite there. Dick's ass clenched as he came, and Lew couldn't hold on any longer. His hips snapped up and he screamed into Dick's hand as the orgasm ripped though him. "Dick, Christ, please," he said, but Dick's hand still silenced him. He couldn't have said anything Dick would have listened to anyway, not then. He came hard, filling Dick as he clenched down on Lew's cock. For a moment Lew let himself forget it all, and fell hard into rush of desire and release that swept through him.

When they were done, their eyes met, and Dick yanked his hand away from Lew's mouth. "Jesus Christ," Lew said immediately. Dick's eyes were wide as saucers, and he scrambled off of Lew and the bed. Lew tried to catch his wrist, to make Dick stay, but he was moving too fast. Dick's expression moved from shock to guilt, and he kept backing away until he was out of the room entirely. Lew heard the bathroom door click shut a moment later, and knew that he wouldn't be seeing Dick for some time. He threw his arm over his eyes and sighed. "What the fuck?" he asked softly, but he was afraid to contemplate the answer.

It almost felt like Dick hated him, and wanted to hurt him, but Lew knew that the truth was more terrible. Dick didn't hate Lew. He could never hate Lew, no matter how badly or how often Lew fucked up. Dick hated himself, and what he'd just done to Lew would only make him feel worse. The hardest part to face was that Dick had done it to hurt them both: to hurt himself because he thought he deserved it, and to hurt Lew to prove that Dick wasn't worth fighting for.

Lew swung himself to his feet. He still had Dick's come on his chest, and his cock was a sloppy mess. He loved Dick Winters with his heart and soul, but he also wanted into the damn bathroom. The door was locked. Lew sighed and rattled the handle. "Dick, I gotta piss," he called through the door.

Dick moaned loud enough to hear in the damn stairwell, but he opened the bathroom door a moment later. He shifted sideways to pass Lew without looking at him. Lew decided that he was going let himself have a few minutes before he dealt with that one, and just went in and shut the door.

Lew slumped onto the toilet and dropped his head into his hands. He had no idea how the evening had gone so wrong. All he'd wanted to do was suck Dick off or something and cheer him up a bit. He couldn't quite bring himself to regret the sex that had happened instead, not when it had felt so damn good to just let himself go, not when he'd gotten to touch Dick like that again. However, clearly cheering Dick up had been the opposite of the actual outcome. Now he couldn't even look Lew in the eye.

The worst of it was that Lew now had no idea whatsoever what to do next. He'd tried getting Dick outside and reminding him what sunshine looked like. He'd tried talking to Dick about what it felt like to survive and return home. He'd tried sex. He'd promised that he'd never abandon Dick again, that he'd keep coming back to him. Yet everything he'd done only seemed to make Dick's mood darker and less hopeful, and Lew was at his wit's end. The prospect of the best friend he'd ever had shrivelling away in the dark while Lew tried everything he could to prevent it and failed every time was literally nightmarish.

During the war, in the winter and spring of '45, Lew'd had a reoccurring dream that he'd been standing in the woods in the Ardennes and seen had Dick calling to him. As Lew had approached, he'd heard a shell screaming through the air, and had shouted for Dick to get down. Dick had always stayed frozen, and had always died in blood and fire, too far away for Lew to even die with. Lew felt like he was living that dream now, only in slow motion on a warm spring evening.

Frankly, it pissed him off. Lew got up and washed himself clean, movements sharp and angry. If Dick thought he could drive Lew off with just determined apathy and a little rough and tumble in bed, he was about to be reminded of what Lew was made of. Getting a surrender out of a Nixon took more bullshit than that, a lot more.

Lew washed his hands and then left the bathroom, rummaging through his suitcase for his backup flask, which he drained in three swallows. The whiskey hit his system hard, and fused his anger into a grim determination. If Dick wanted to go down, he was fucking well going to take Lew with him. See how he liked that.

Dick was sitting on the edge of the bed, still naked, resting his head in his hands. Lew didn't say anything. He yanked the covers out from under Dick's ass, pushed him flat on his back, and lay on top of him.

"Lew, I'm—" Dick started to say, but Lew leaned up and kissed him until he shut up.

"Fuck you. You're stuck with me," he snapped, still surprised at how angry he could be, especially at Dick. "You got that?"

"Yeah," Dick answered. He buried his hand in Lew's hair and closed his eyes, but Lew could tell he wasn't sleeping.

"Good," Lew said. He didn't say anything else, because he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't hurt both of them. He closed his eyes and focused on the pounding of Dick's heart under his ear. It took a long time for it to slow into anything like sleep, and longer still for Lew to calm down enough to even consider passing out. When he did, he fell into a booze-soaked, clinging slumber filled with dreams of the Ardennes.

* * *

**Holy Saturday**

Lew woke up earlier than he would have liked and stiflingly hot. Dick was breathing steadily under him, and didn't seem to be awake, despite the sun starting to filter into the apartment. Lew filed Dick Winters not being up with the birds in with the rest of his ominous signs. Boots thudded down the stairs on the other side of the wall, the start of some shift or other, and Lew sighed. He gingerly pulled away, wincing as their skins stuck together. Dick stirred but kept sleeping, even when Lew kissed his forehead before he stood.

The only food in the apartment was the rest of the jar of peanut butter and a box of saltines. Lew considered combining these, but decided he'd rather starve. It was Saturday, and they'd probably be able to find something open. Lew wished they were in New York. He knew how New York worked. Lancaster felt like enemy territory, except unlike in Germany, he couldn't just appropriate the local booze. Also, unless he could find a source, he was going to be keeping his promise to Dick about being sober on Easter. Lew had not planned this trip well.

He needed to get his shit together. Planning was one thing that he'd actually been good at in the army, he just needed to start thinking things through. If the objective was to make Dick happy, he needed to work out what was actually going to accomplish that. So far his attempts at intelligence gathering had been a bust, but negative results were still results. Lew had simply eliminated possibilities. It very much looked like just coming down on the weekends was not going to radically improve Dick's life, so he needed to start working out long-term changes. It was meddling, and it wouldn't be welcome, but Dick didn't seem to have the strength to work this out on his own. Fixing Dick's life seemed like it would be a lot more manageable than turning around and facing Lew's own personal disasters.

Lew would have to break his larger operation of making Dick happy down into sequential objectives. First had to be finding a new job. Dick didn't want to work in New Jersey, fine, but he clearly hated his factory job as well. He also hated the army. Lew needed to work out what Dick would like—something engaging enough to remind him why he'd wanted to come home—and then find a way to get him to actually go for it. The next step, which hopefully would follow naturally, was a better place to live than this mouldy rat trap. Finally, Dick needed a wife. For all that he was private and self-possessed, Dick desperately craved touching and being touched and, more than that, having someone with whom to share his deepest thoughts and feelings. He needed someone who understood him. Just talking to Lew on the weekends wasn't going to be enough. If DeEtta had been a bust, maybe there was some local girl Dick would like. She would have to be smart, and funny and not take any bullshit. Lew didn't know what Dick's preferences were in terms of looks, but thought personality probably mattered more.

As a beginning, to get Dick communicative, he would need to be awake, fed, reasonably contented, and not wrecked by guilt over whatever the fuck they'd done the night before. Lew had a pretty good idea how get that ball rolling too. Encouraged by having a plan in place, Lew went back into the bedroom, and knelt next to Dick's legs. He'd kicked the blankets off some time after Lew had gotten up, and now lay stretched out naked and glorious, like some kind of lewd Greek statue.

Lew shook his hip gently, saying, "Hey, time to get up. Beautiful day, and all that bunk."

Dick stirred, rubbing his eyes and blinking down at Lew. "What time is it?"

"After nine. I thought you were dead for a while there." Dick had been out for a solid twelve hours, longer than he'd slept on any three nights during the war.

"Okay," Dick said, still a little groggy. He stretched his arms and legs, pointing his toes down arching his back. Lew swallowed, watching as his muscles flexed and slid under his skin. Lew didn't know when skinny redheads had turned out to be his type, but somewhere in there they had. Unable to hold back, he stroked his hand down Dick's thigh, feeling the prickle of soft hairs over his taut skin.

Dick sighed explosively and relaxed again. "What are you doing on the floor?" he asked. "I shove you out of bed?" Then he frowned, the events of the night before plainly coming back to him. "Oh," he whispered. "Lew, I..."

"You didn't kick me out," Lew insisted. He grinned up at Dick, pretending everything was fine between them, and added, "I am on the floor purely for prurient purposes." Which he could say because he was stone cold fucking sober, and didn't want to be, but that was a problem for after breakfast.

"Um," Dick said, blinking again. His cock figured it out before his brain did, and his hips flexed, muscles clenching and releasing in a way that made Lew lick his lips. "Nix, you don't have to."

"I don't see anyone holding a gun to my head. Do you?"

"Well, no," Dick admitted. He reached down and stroked Lew's hair, which was all the permission Lew needed.

Lew pulled Dick's hips over to the edge of the bed, giving himself a better angle. Dick had raised his head to watch Lew, and though he still didn't look quite awake, his eyes were darkening, and his thighs flexed again. Lew leaned in and licked the length of Dick's cock. It was still soft, resting between his legs, but from the way Dick's body tensed at his touch, Lew wasn't going to have to wait long. Lew took the tip in his mouth and then made a show of making the most obscene wet noises he could manage while pulling it into his mouth.

"Nix!" Dick said, sounding a little shocked, but he didn't tell Lew to stop. His hand in Lew's hair tightened, pulling just a little.

"Hmm?" Lew asked, making the sound low so it vibrated through his jaw. Dick's cock twitched in his mouth and started to stiffen. Lew sucked lightly, enjoying the way Dick's thighs tensed under his chin. Every time Lew moved his tongue—either swishing it back and forth or curling it up against the cock filling his mouth—Dick whimpered in pleasure. He was trying not to pull Lew's hair, but his hand clenched and unclenched of its own accord.

Dick murmured Lew's name again, and Lew hummed in response. When Dick's hips jerked up, Lew tightened his grip and pushed him back flat against the bed. Then he rose up higher on his knees and bent down a bit more so that he could swallow Dick right down. Dick sobbed and thrashed, his hand clenching Lew's hair, but he didn't cry out. The walls were too thin, and Lew could make Dick feel good, but he couldn't make him forget where he was. Lew swallowed around Dick's cock, and hummed a low thrumming blues tune he'd heard. He couldn't really breathe, but he knew that Dick wouldn't last long.

"Lew, please, oh, God, please," Dick babbled, still whispering, then ran out of words and just said Lew's name over and over again while Lew kept sucking. His hips bucked against Lew's hands, and his free hand slapped against the mattress in a vain attempt to hold back. "Please," he whispered as he came, shooting down Lew's throat almost faster than he could swallow. He kept sucking until Dick shuddered and fell still, and then looked up through his eyelashes. Dick was propped up on his elbows now, staring down at Lew with the second real smile Lew had seen since he got there.

Lew pulled away, then made a show of licking Dick's cock clean before leaning up to kiss him. "Good morning," he said.

"Yeah," Dick agreed. "Good morning."

"Come on, get dressed," Lew told him. "I've got a day planned."

Dick was too dazed to argue, though he did insist on washing and shaving. Lew sat on the couch, half rereading _Lancaster Farming_ , half watching Dick's meticulous ablutions. He was glad that those army habits at least had not fallen away. The day Dick didn't shave in the morning would be the day Lew called an ambulance from the funny farm as a precautionary measure.

As it was, he finished the paper, and dressed quickly before Dick was finished tying his tie. It was still strange to see him out of uniform. Dick looked swallowed up by his charcoal flannel suit and dark hat, like a boy dressing in his father's clothes, or someone in a poorly-made disguise. Maybe some day it'd fit him right, but Lew wondered. For all that Dick was the one with the business degree, he seemed as poorly matched to the work as Lew did, which was quite a statement.

"Where to?" Dick asked as he slid into the passenger seat. Lew was saving putting the top down for when they got out of town. 

"Breakfast," Lew said. "My treat." He drove more or less randomly towards downtown until he found a diner, and then ordered a mess of food for both of them before Dick could protest. "I've been eating you out of house and home," he said, trying to make it clear that Dick would not be paying half. Dick grunted and soon was shovelling bacon, eggs, toast, sausages and potatoes into his mouth at a rate that made Lew think he hadn't had decent food in a while. Or maybe he hadn't had the energy or the will to eat it.

Lew wished that he could keep Dick close and wake him up like that every morning, and then feed him, and kiss him every time he frowned. He wished there was a way they could just go sailing, like Dick had once said he'd wanted to, and forget the cares of the world. Too bad Dick was too responsible to turn his back on his family, too independent to let himself be kept, and they couldn't kiss in public anyway.

Dick was frowning now, and Lew took a swallow of his coffee to hide his expression. He was afraid that he'd been looking at Dick with something like open longing, and Dick had never seemed to have time for that guff. Fucking your buddies was fine in wartime, or apparently when you didn't have anyone else in the world, but Dick had made it pretty clear that he planned to go back to being normal when he got home. Maybe he hadn't married yet, but he would, and then he'd be making a baby a year like Harry and Kitty, and Lew would be back in Princeton, alone.

Which was Lew's goal, he reminded himself: Sort out Dick's life so that Lew could go back to his old ways easy in the knowledge that he didn't owe anyone any guilt, and he didn't have to worry about his former best friend floundering without him. Then at least he'd have done one useful thing with his life outside of the military.

"Are you all right?" Dick asked. Lew realised he hadn't really been eating, and chewed through a piece of toast before answering.

"Fine," he said. "Why?"

"Well, I worry about you," Dick said. He paused, and Lew could see him considering what to say next. "It, uh, doesn't seem like you have a lot to do back in New Jersey."

Lew laughed. "That's certainly the idea!" What the hell did he know about running a nitration works, maybe a little that he'd picked up against his will over the years, more than he cared to. He supposed he could go back to school, if he could find one that would take him after his disastrous exit from Yale, but he didn't see much point in that either. What would he study, and why would it matter? "I don't know," he said. "I've been thinking of moving out west, California."

Dick frowned again at that, just a twitch before he moulded his face into a more neutral and interested expression. "What's in California?" he asked.

"Mother has some property there," Lew said. Most of a valley and a small island, actually. He didn't have the least idea what he'd do on the west coast that would be any different than here, but he was itching for a change in scenery lately. Princeton was closing in around him, and Nixon was even worse. No wonder his father spent most of his time either in Florida or on the road.

"Of course," Dick said, and Lew knew he was being judged a layabout and of no account, which was nothing new. Dick hadn't thought much of him since they'd left Austria, had said something about how Lew was only good for drinking and fighting. Lew mostly tried to tell himself he didn't care, though he would have added fucking to that list, not that Dick would ever use that word.

"I'm already bored talking about me," Lew said, and focused on cramming back his breakfast. Dick looked away, and then did the same. They didn't say anything else until they were in the car. Lew paused to take the top down, and then pointed north.

"Now where?" Dick asked.

"Nowhere special," Lew told him. "It's a nice day for a drive."

They picked up a two-lane road running up towards the Blue Ridge Mountains. The Buick's engine purred easily over the rolling hills, and Lew relaxed into focusing on each curve as it came and the feel of the wind in his hair. Dick slouched into the passenger seat, tipping his head back like he was going to sleep, but keeping his eyes open a crack. His legs spread wide as he tried to stretch out, and his knee bumped into Lew's on the corners. Lew had a silver-screen image of them driving through the countryside with Lew's arm around Dick's shoulders and Dick's head on Lew's chest, but he knew that wasn't something that could happen.

It was all fields curving over gentle hills out here, patches of trees, the odd silo, lots of small houses and barns. Lew had never seen so many cows in his life. Some fields were cut into rows of dark earth, while others had green shoots of the very first crops coming up already. The hedgerows and apple trees were blooming, and Lew knew that come a month from now, it would all be so green it would hurt to look at. They came to a little red-roofed town, and a couple kids standing on the corner pointed at the car as it rolled past, one whistling. Lew grinned and waved at them.

"This is beautiful country," Lew said as they came out into more pastureland. "Reminds me of Italy, before the war." And of every WPA poster about the virtue of America's farmers and the value of hard work and possibly abstinence. Lew found himself falling for it despite himself. He wondered if he'd have been a different man, maybe a better one, if he'd grown up in a place like this, not bounced around the cities of two coasts and three continents. Probably much the same. It would take more than fresh air, cows, and general wholesomeness to cure the Nixon family of what ailed it.

"Yeah, it is," Dick said.

It had been a long enough break before he answered that Lew had almost forgotten what he'd asked, but he edged the conversation forward. "You ever think about getting a place out here somewhere?"

Dick shrugged, and didn't answer.

"You used to talk about a farm," Lew persisted. "Back in Aldbourne, you said you wanted to farm when you got home."

That didn't get anything out of Dick either, and Lew sighed. He didn't see what the problem was. It was so easy to imagine Dick out here, stripped down to his undershirt, wrestling a cow or a bale of hay or something, sun and freckles darkening his skin. He'd be covered in sweat and dirt and happiness, children and dogs running around his feet. This was where Dick should be, not stuck inside for twelve hours at a stretch, never smelling the open air or seeing the sun. Dick either didn't agree, or if he did, he couldn't seem to find the words to talk about it. They drove on.

The next town had some kind of market going on, and Lew had to slow and wind his way through backed up trucks, escaped livestock, and people wandering everywhere, not one of them watching the road. Lew had to back up to get around a horse trailer, and as he did, he saw Dick watching a young family out of the corner of his eye. They were typical Dutch Pennsylvanians, blond hair and apple cheeks. The wife was round and happy, and her husband broad-shouldered and solemn. She had two toddlers literally tied to her apron strings, and a taller boy dogged his father's steps. They should have been on a fucking postcard, or the cover of _Life Magazine_. Dick's eyes followed them until Lew turned the next corner and started to pull out of town. The road turned west a little there, up into the next county. Lew followed it

"You can't do it by yourself," Dick said once the town was well out of sight.

"How's that?" Lew asked.

"Farming," Dick explained, "you can't do it alone."

"Well, you could hire people," Lew said, but he knew that wasn't what Dick meant. It was meant for families, this rural life, and Dick didn't have one. He didn't seem likely to get one either, if he kept spending his weeks working himself to exhaustion and his weekends either sleeping or buddying around with Lew. Lew would have to let him be, he realised, actually make the move to California and let Dick get on with the life he was meant to have, the life that didn't include a self-indulgent playboy who barely knew which end of a bottle was up on a good day. Lew would go, as soon as he got Dick back on track and pointed in the right direction.

"I should have married her," Dick said. He meant DeEtta, Lew thought. "She expected me to marry her, and I led her on for years, and then dropped her. She's a good woman, and she would have helped me."

"Why didn't you?" Lew asked. He'd been wondering that for a while, really. He glanced over at Dick, but he was staring out at the fields as they flashed by.

"You should marry for love," Dick answered, almost to low to hear over the wind, "like my parents. It's not that I didn't love her. I think I did, or I did once, but..." He didn't finish, but Lew could hear the ocean of apathy and self-doubt that remained unspoken. Dick didn't think that there was enough left of him to make a husband and father, not like he should be, so he'd thrown away the best chance he'd had.

Lew almost told Dick that he loved him, but he stopped himself in time. Dick would think it was for pity, or even making fun, or even if he believed Lew, he wouldn't believe that Lew would be able to stand by his words. That wasn't unfair; Lew didn't think he could either, but that didn't mean he loved Dick any less. "You'll find someone," he said instead.

Dick turned and smiled sadly at Lew, like he was touched that Lew put the effort into humouring him, and said, "The only person I ever seem to find is you."

"Nah. I'm the one that finds you," Lew said, trying to play off Dick's maudlin outburst. "Don't know what kind of a wife I'd make, though."

That at least got a chuckle out of Dick, and Lew pretended to glare at him. "Yeah, I don't know about that either," Dick said, still laughing. "Hey, maybe you're selling yourself short."

"You know, maybe I am," Lew agreed, and gave Dick his best flirty smile, but Dick was already looking out the window again. Well, that had lasted for a minute and a half, and Lew had moved up from smiles to laughs. The trip to the countryside thing seemed to be working. Now if only he could talk Dick into moving here.

Dick did have a point, however. Taking up farming was not a solitary pursuit. Perhaps Lew should have placed finding a wife as the first priority, and finding a better job as the secondary or even tertiary one. Dick probably was saving more money than his shitty apartment made obvious, and could maybe move to somewhere less horrifying and more congenial to female company if he so desired. He'd said something in December about working on the factory floor for a month or so when he started out, which had been almost four months ago. Lew assumed that Dick was earning a personnel manager's salary at this point. Whatever that entailed.

He pulled around a wide bend into the next town, and tried to tell himself that it didn't matter what he thought about Dick marrying. They had agreed in France that what had happened in the desperation of war would end before their return to America. Even if that hadn't turned out to be completely accurate, Lew still had no claim on Dick's heart or on his life.

There was a girl tending an ice cream stand in the town centre, so Lew pulled over. Dick shrugged when Lew asked what flavour he wanted. He hadn't shut up about ice cream, real milk and unreconstituted butter for the whole fucking war, but somehow Lew didn't know what kind Dick liked best. The girl had chocolate and strawberry, so he got one of each. He gave them both to Dick as he pulled away from the curb and back onto the road north. They hills were steepening, and Lew thought they were just about in the mountains by now. The air smelled sharper, more like some kind of pine, and less like cow manure.

Lew kept his eyes on the road, but leaned towards Dick, who held out the chocolate cone for him to lick. The cold bittersweet cream tasted so good he could have cried. He took another slurp before leaning back over to his side of the car. Lew had to ignore the slight possessive feeling he felt when Dick licked the same place he just had. Why that meant so much when not five hours ago he'd had his mouth on Dick's cock, Lew didn't know, but the simple intimacy of sharing an ice cream was something new somehow. It was something they hadn't done in Europe. It was an American thing, and one not done between buddies.

Lew was getting his hopes twisted up in something that wasn't going to happen. Dick liked ice cream. He probably liked chocolate more than strawberry. He'd wanted to taste the same one he'd offered Lew. He was letting the strawberry one melt all over his hand.

They were on a straight section of road, and Lew squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. This was the most ridiculous string of thoughts he'd ever had, and that was saying something from a man who'd let Dick Winters talk him into jumping out of airplanes when he could have stayed in a nice safe office in California for the whole war. The words "Could you ever love me?" built in his throat, but in the end, Lew was too much of a coward to ask them. No matter what the answer was, he didn't think he could deal with it.

He turned the car around the next chance he got, and they wound their way back to Lancaster by late afternoon. At some point on the drive, Dick drifted off and slumped into Lew's shoulder, but he started awake as they came into town. They bought groceries and whiskey, and didn't talk about anything of consequence.

They didn't have sex that night, but Dick let Lew hold him close as they spooned together in bed. Lew buried his face in the hair at the back of Dick's neck and tried not to think about how much he wanted to do this forever.

* * *

**Easter Sunday**

Lew wanted to sleep in and maybe mess around, but Dick made him get up, shave and go to church. "It's Easter!" he said, like that justified harassment. They did take Lew's car at least, though with the top up so Dick didn't disarrange his hair. Lew was surprised Dick wasn't in his Class As, but he had the same overly-serious dark suit as the day before, now pressed and ironed so that Lew could have shaved with the creases. Lew wore a double-breasted navy thing that he knew would be both too flashy and too hot. However, the other suit he'd brought was a sporting coat and worn at the elbows, and Dick had glared at Lew for even looking at it.

Dick's parents met them outside, having walked. They were immaculately dressed, with care-worn faces than looked ten years older than the picture Dick kept, even though Lew knew it had been taken the summer before the 101st shipped out. Dick's sister was in that spotty, gawky elbows and knees stage that Lew remembered mocking his own sister for. She'd been jammed into a pink dress that was too narrow across the shoulders, and didn't look very happy to be up this early either. They all smiled at Lew, who smiled back, but Lew had seen more genial expressions on infantry colonels eyeing up entrenched German positions.

It wasn't quite eight thirty in the morning, and Lew hadn't had a drink. He didn't know how he was going to make it through however much church, let alone the following family lunch, in which the best possible behaviour would be silent judgement. There was no one on Earth besides Dick Winters that Lew would have done this for. Which, when he considered it, might be a signal indicating the cause of failure of his last two serious romances.

He was glad that Dick at least put Lew on the aisle and himself as a barrier between Lew and the rest of the Winterses. He leaned over and said into Dick's ear, "I haven't set foot in a church since my wedding. Help me out."

That got him a half smile, and Lew had the pleasure of sharing various hymnals and prayer books for the rest of the service. Their hands kept touching as Dick pointed to where on the page they ought to be, and if Lew moved at all his knee would brush Dick's. He wished they could hold hands like children, but every time he looked at Dick, he saw Dick's sister watching them curiously.

Dick himself transformed during the service. His shoulders lifted, and his face took on a peace that Lew hadn't even seen on their country drive. The sunrise streamed through the stained-glass windows and lit Dick's hair into a fiery halo, like it was Pentecost instead of Easter. He was beautiful here, too beautiful for someone like Lew even to consider. Dick had never been able to carry a tune, but he still sang all the hymns full voiced and without looking at the book, and raised his face to the cross like he was seeing the Lord Resurrected right there on a Sunday morning in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. 

Lew was mostly glad that even the Lutherans couldn't wring dreariness out of an Easter Sunday, and he liked hearing Dick sing and seeing him happy. Maybe Dick should go into the ministry, rather than farming, but Lew thought that the consolation Dick found in church was too simple to survive being turned over and back on itself in a seminary. Lew tipped the collection a fifty.

After the service, Dick's family walked back to their house, which gave Lew a few minutes with Dick as they drove over. "What am I in for?" he asked.

Dick shook his head, indicating that nothing he could say would help, rather than that he didn't know. "Good manners," he said. His tone implied that that wasn't going to be a good thing. "Try to mention the weather or something. Keep them talking about something else." Something besides Lew, which wasn't a topic that was going to lead anywhere good.

"Right," Lew said grimly, and then they were there.

"Oh, and I can't help you," Dick said as they got to the door, because he was a dirty traitor, and a coward besides.

The women laid out a spread of cold meat, relishes, rolls and salads that had clearly been slaved over the day before, all served with iced tea and lemonade. It took less than twenty minutes, starting from saying grace, for Dick's father to work out Lew's marital history, that it he hadn't seen his kid since he'd gotten home, the somewhat hazy nature of Lew's job description and responsibilities, and the fact that what he wanted more than anything else on Earth right now was a double scotch, hold the rocks. Lew didn't even know how it had happened; he'd been trying to talk about the weather. If Richard Winters Sr. had been in the army, he would have made G2 in a matter of months, and the war would have ended a good deal sooner.

Lew settled on just brazening it out, and trying not to look at Dick who looked just a little too amused by all this. At least Lew knew what he'd meant by not being able to help. Dick running interference for Lew would only have given his father the impression that Lew couldn't speak for himself, which would be far worse than anything he could actually manage to say.

Dick's mom watched Lew like a hawk, while somehow simultaneously keeping a concerned eye on both Dick and her husband, and managing to shush her daughter any time she looked like she wanted to have a go at the Grill Lewis Nixon game. For his part, Dick was shuffling his food around his plate and staying quiet. Richard stuck to eating rolls and milk—something about his stomach, Lew remembered—and looked pale and tired. Lew's eyes flicked between them, and it wasn't hard to imagine Dick twenty years down the line, not allowed food with any flavour and looking like every hour of factory work had been carved into his face. Lew caught Edith watching him make the comparison, and their gazes held for a moment before Lew looked down at his plate.

After dessert, trifle and cream, Lew stood and said, "May I help you clear the table, Mrs. Winters?"

Lew saw Edith open her mouth to tell him he was a guest, and of course he couldn't do anything, but then their eyes met again, and she nodded. "That's very kind of you, Mr. Nixon. Annie, why don't you take Dick up and show him that ribbon Mrs Carlisle gave you for composition."

Dick groaned, almost too softly for Lew to hear, and Lew smiled at him in the sweet satisfaction of revenge. Let's see who liked being talked about now.

Edith gave him all the heaviest platters, and pointed him to the kitchen with her chin. The second the door close behind them, she set down her stack of plates turned to Lew, and said, "I'm just worried sick about that boy."

"So am I, ma'am," Lew said, relieved that they were indeed on the same page.

"We come from a hard-working stock, Mr. Nixon," Edith said, folding her arms tightly across her chest, "And I got him that job thinking he'd make something of it. He wanted to be a businessman, he said, but he's just going to work himself to death, and there's no sense in it. He came all the way back to us, after so long at war, and now..." Her mouth tightened in a way so familiar that it made Lew's breath catch.

Lew put down the platters and went to stand next to the sink, so close that that could talk in low voices, like he and Dick had all through the war. "He wouldn't have done any better in New Jersey," Lew admitted. "Though I'd have paid him more for his misery." He would have liked to think that he would have been there to support Dick. The problem was that everything about Nixon Nitration made Lew want to throw himself in the Raritan River and, with the pollution the plant generated, drowning himself in Vat 69 was better for his health.

One side of Edith's mouth turned down in a grimace that summed up Lew's entire fucking life and what she thought of it. Lew couldn't say he disagreed, but again the expression was such a mirror of her son that the judgement felt more personal than it should have. "I don't know what to do to help him," she said. "I asked him to move back with us, I took his hands and begged, but he won't. He hides himself away in those awful rooms. You're the first one he's talked to in months, I think. You're the only friend he'll see."

"Jesus," Lew said, sighing the word out. "Sorry, ma'am," he added at her frown. "I don't know if I'm helping or making it worse. I tried to get him to talk, took him for a walk, took him for a drive, took him for ice cream." Tried fucking him and sucking him off, and holding him while he slept. "It either doesn't work or doesn't stick," Lew concluded.

"No," Edith said. "You cannot repair the damage done by a whole war in a weekend, Mr. Nixon. Not even on Easter."

That Lew knew only too well. "I thought maybe a better job," he said, and briefly laid out his three-step plan, but Edith was already shaking her head by the end of it.

"I doubt you'll lead him to anything, even if it's for his own good. I wish I could say he has a temper like his father," she said, "but that's the Esbenshades for you: more stubborn-hard than hammered iron all the way back to Menno Simons. It's only too bad that Dick didn't inherit his grandfather's hand for farming as well. I don't think that boy knows which end of a corn stalk goes in the ground."

That Dick was not an intuitive grower of crops was an obstacle Lew had not considered. "What about animals?" Lew asked. "He had an ad for a turkey farm circled in the paper."

"Did he?" For a moment, Lew saw hope cross her face, but then the dourness returned. "It's too late to start turkeys, and even if he got chicks from a hatchery, it would be too much work alone. And..." She turned to the sink, but didn't look at the dishes, staring instead out the window into the small back yard. Lew waited, knowing that patience paid out more often than persistence in this kind of information gathering. He heard Dick's footsteps on the stairs to the upper rooms, and wondered that he could still know his step anywhere, light or dark, near or far. There were some things, however, that a mother might know best. "Have you ever seen a slaughter, Mr. Nixon?" she asked, still not turning to him.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, then realised that she meant of animals, but couldn't correct himself without saying too much. He didn't think Dick wanted his family to know what the war had been like for him.

"Do you think my boy would have the heart for that?"

Lew didn't even have to think about that. "No," he answered, "I can't see that he would."

"Well then," Edith said, with a little Gallic shrug, as if she were dismissing the whole world and everything in it, or at least all the turkey farms.

Lew took a sharp breath, something Edith had said colliding with another ad he'd seen in _Lancaster Farming_ , and sparking the beginnings of a plan. "What's a hatchery?" he asked.

Edith turned back, and he didn't know if the surprise on her face was at the ignorance of his question or the soundness of his idea. "They buy eggs and hatch them, then sell the baby chicks on, either as boilers or hens," she said. "Sometimes they have their own hens to lay the eggs. It's a good business. Poultry is so popular now. 'A chicken in every pot' indeed."

"Well then," Lew said, echoing her. It left one problem, but Lew had been considering that too. "I could help him," he said before he could think better of it.

He'd thought that Edith would be pleased by his offer, maybe that she was desperate enough to take help from anyone even the likes of him, but her expression darkened. "No," she snarled.

Lew blinked, and a sudden panic that she knew exactly what he'd been trying to do to cheer Dick up swept through him. "Pardon?" was all he could say.

Edith stepped forward, and he could see that her hands were balled into fists and the tightness in her arms was creasing the front of her dress. When she was just a few inches from Lew's face, she hissed, "Lord knows why, but Dick loves you like David loved Jonathan. I would change it if I could, but don't know the means. What do I know is that if you promise to help him, and then you realise that it's too boring, or too hard, or not enough, you will break him sure as the rack." He voice had been raising, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. She was so close that Lew could smell talcum powder and some kind of floral rinse off her hair. "Better that you go back to New Jersey, or California, and never speak to him again, Mr. Nixon, than that you promise to help him and then fail him."

"Jesus Christ," Lew said, and this time he didn't apologise. Edith's words had shaken him, and he wished that he could tell her that his word was good, and that if he decided to help Dick he would keep his word until Doomsday, but he knew himself too well, and so did she, apparently. "I don't even know if Dick wants me around," Lew said when he'd caught his breath. "Thing is, there doesn't seem to be anyone else."

That earned him a sharp nod. "I have no other reason to talk to you," Edith said.

Besides the fact that she thought that Dick loved him, which Lew was still trying to get his head around. He tried to remember who David and Jonathan had been, but only recalled something about usurpation and sleeping with someone else's wife and warring sons. He'd spent a lot more time in Sunday school paying attention to Bobby Parker than to Miss Evenshaw. He stepped back, knowing he was retreating, but needing the space. "I need to think," he said; from Edith's look, she knew that he meant _drink_. "I don't know what I can promise, ma'am, but if I figure it out, will you help us?"

Edith lifted her chin and gave Lew a look regal enough to give his mother a good run. "To the ends of the Earth," she said, "but don't take too long."

"All right," Lew said.

"Good." Then she pivoted and started back towards the dining room, leaving Lew standing in the kitchen trying to recover something from the emotional shrapnel surrounding him.

By the time Lew collected himself enough to be able to keep everything from showing on his face, Dick was standing with their hats, looking like he was moments from abandoning Lew to his fate. Lew made it to the car before he pulled out his flask and took a long drink. He knew that Edith et al probably saw him from the window, but he didn't especially care. They knew what Lew was.

Dick raised his eyebrows, and asked if he could drive. Lew shrugged and tossed him the keys.

"What did you and Mom have to talk about for so long?" Dick asked with pretended disinterest.

"Esbenshade family history," Lew answered, "and eggs." He knew that at some point he'd have to tell Dick what was going on, but he didn't know how or how much. Edith Winters was right, Lew needed to work out what he was able to promise before he made his next move. Any other approach would only make things worse. He took another drink. The scotch smoothed his emotions and put a pleasant distance between himself and the world. Lew slouched back in his seat and closed his eyes, spreading his legs until his knee bumped into Dick's. He wanted to lean over and rest his head on Dick's shoulder, but didn't quite dare. Dick drove smoothly through the sleepy city, taking the corners slow. With the sun on his face and the deep purr of the engine, Lew was almost asleep by the time they pulled up at Dick's apartment.

Dick closed the apartment door by shoving Lew against it and kissing him hard. Lew's hands came up to bury themselves is Dick's hair, knocking his hat off. He kissed back fervently, not sure what had gotten into Dick, and not really caring. It felt so good to have Dick's lean body pressed against his like he was trying to merge them into one person. Dick was consuming Lew, his mouth open, his teeth catching Lew's lips, his tongue pushing inside him. It felt like Dick thought it was the last kiss they'd ever have, and Lew didn't know where the desperation was coming from.

Dick's cock was hard against Lew's stomach, and Lew lifted his hips forward to rub against him, their cocks grinding through their best Sunday suits. Dick pulled away enough to whisper, "I need you," into Lew's ear.

"Yeah?" Lew asked. He didn't quite knew what came over him, maybe it was the booze, but he had to know what Dick felt. He was tired of trying to work it out, of picking through Dick's emotional minefield, and not knowing where he stood. "How much?"

"Please, Lew," Dick said, a bit of a whine in his voice. He didn't want to explain. He just wanted Lew to know what he needed.

"Fine," Lew said. He let go of Dick's hair and pushed at his shoulders, breaking them apart, then herded Dick over to the counter and spun him around and kicked his legs apart. With Dick's legs spread wide, Lew's erection slid perfectly against Dick's ass. Dick braced his arms on the edge of the counter and rubbed back against Lew. "Is this what you want?" Lew asked.

"Yes," Dick said. He tried to push back against Lew again, but Lew grabbed Dick's hips and held him steady. He stood back enough that Dick couldn't touch him and then unclipped his suspenders and reached around to open Dick's fly. He could only get Dick's pants and underwear shoved down to the middle of his thighs, but that was enough. Dick was leaning over in front of him, in his best suit, bare-assed and squirming. Lew still had his hat on.

Lew grabbed Dick's ass with both hands and squeezed hard, making Dick groan. "You have to tell me what you want," he said in a low voice.

Dick rolled his hips and pushed into Lew's hands, but Lew didn't move. "Nix," Dick said, but he didn't tell Lew what he wanted.

"This?" Lew asked. He ran a finger from behind Dick's balls up over his asshole. "Do you want this?"

"Yes," Dick whispered.

"Then say it."

Dick was breathing hard, and his cock bobbed, hard and heavy without Lew hardly touching Dick. "I want you inside me," Dick said. "Please."

Lew leaned his body against Dick's long enough to reach past him for the bottle of cooking oil. He kissed the back of Dick's neck as he tipped a little out onto his fingers, splashing a bunch on the counter too. His hands were shaking. Dick rubbed against Lew's cock again, bare ass against Lew's pants, and Lew groaned and had to stop himself from humping Dick right there. He stepped back again and got a good hold on Dick's hip with one hand, and slid two oiled fingers right into Dick.

"Yes," Dick moaned, and his head dropped forward. He was already so open that Lew could have just fucked him right there, but he wanted to make Dick ask for that too. Lew kept pushing in until his fingers were buried up to the knuckles. He twisted his hand, spreading his fingers apart and had to push Dick's hips flat against the edge of the counter to keep him steady. Dick moaned and bucked and writhed on Lew's hand. Lew had always loved how damn needy Dick was in bed, but now it made him want to wring more out of him. He wanted to make Dick feel so good that he admitted he liked it, to fuck him until he snapped out of whatever the hell was wrong with him. Lew curled his fingers and rolled his knuckles forward, making Dick gasp and jerk under Lew's touch.

"Do you want this?" Lew asked, lips just touching the curve of Dick's ear.

"Yes," Dick answered, voice small and choked, almost too faint for Lew to hear.

Lew twisted his fingers again, making Dick flex his ass around them. He knew how good that was going to feel on his cock, and if he wasn't careful, he was going to come in his pants before he even got to try it. A haze of alcohol and lust was making it difficult to hold himself back. He just wanted to sink into Dick and fuck them both senseless. "You want more?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what you want," Lew curled his fingers and then spread them suddenly, and Dick gasped and bucked again. Even Lew's smallest motions built and cascaded through Dick's whole body, and the power in that was intoxicating, too. "You've got to tell me, Dick."

"Nix, please," Dick begged, but Lew wouldn't relent. He thrust his fingers in and out of Dick's ass in an imitation of the real thing until Dick was nearly sobbing from wanting more. "I want your cock in my ass," Dick admitted finally.

Lew's throat felt so rough that he had to clear his throat before whispering, "You want me to screw you, Dick? You want me to fuck you against your kitchen counter at two o'clock on Easter Sunday?" He emphasised the profanity by shoving his fingers as deep inside Dick as they would go. Dick stopped breathing for a moment, then gasped and pushed back down onto Lew's fingers with his whole weight.

"Please," he begged again.

"Dick. Tell me what you want," Lew ordered through gritted teeth. He'd let Dick have the rest, but Lew was going to win this one.

Dick's breath hitched again, and his fingernails scratched along the counter top as he clenched his hands. "I, uh, I want you to screw me, Nix," he whispered. "Please."

"All right." Lew got his fly open and his underwear pushed down with one hand, then reached around and held his palm out flat in front of Dick. "Need some more oil," he said when Dick just stared at it. Lew pulled his fingers out of Dick's ass and them pumped them back in a few times to shake Dick out of it.

"Right," Dick muttered, sounding dazed. He poured oil across Lew's palm, which somehow felt far more decadent than Lew doing it himself. Lew closed his hand and shook the drops free before he slicked his cock up. His oily hand stroking over himself felt so good that he considered just pumping over Dick's ass. The image made his mouth dry up, but he'd promised. He took Dick's hip again, pulled his fingers free, and thrust in.

Dick was slick and tight around him, and it was the best damn thing Lew had ever felt. His knees were already shaking, but he locked them and held onto Dick's hips. Dick pushed back against him, trying to feel more, and Lew had to bite his lip to keep control. "This is what you want?" he asked.

"Yes," Dick told him.

"Good." Lew pulled almost all the way out, until just the head of his cock was inside Dick, and paused while Dick strained back and clenched his ass and tried to hurry Lew along with every unspoken direction he knew. Lew would be expecting army hand signals any moment now, except Dick was still bracing against the counter. Lew waited until Dick stilled and then snapped his hips forward until his hipbones hit Dick's ass with a smack. The power of the drive into Dick and the way he could feel Dick's groan in response vibrating through both their bodies almost made Lew come then and there. He took a breath before pulling out again. "Did you think of this all through church?" he asked. "Is that why you wanted it so bad?"

"I think about this all the time," Dick admitted. His head was still down, and his shoulders hunched. "I can't stop thinking about you. I missed you so much, Lew."

Lew couldn't keep up the teasing side anymore, so he settled on a steady pace, rocking in and out of Dick with every breath. That had been more than he'd meant to get Dick to say, but Lew couldn't think about that now. He set it aside. He wanted to make this last for Dick, to make something he remembered forever, especially if this turned out to be their last time. "You have no idea how good you look," Lew told him. "You're all spread out just for me, in your best damn suit. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." It wasn't just sweet talk either. The contrast of his pale ass against the dark wool and the way the suit collar made the flush on the back of his neck stand out were doing things to Lew. He had to stop and close his eyes for a second before he could keep going. His thrusts were getting faster than he meant, but he couldn't seem to slow down.

"Oh, god," Dick whispered. He was doing his best to push back against Lew as he thrust forward but no longer had the co-ordination. His body was shaking under Lew's hands, and he kept clenching and releasing his muscles. "I want this," he said, though Lew hadn't asked this time. "Please."

"You've got it," Lew told him.

"Nix," Dick gasped, and Lew didn't realise that he was coming until his body tensed and his ass tightened around Lew's cock. Lew hadn't laid a hand on him, and Dick was coming hard, just from being fucked. He kept saying Lew's name, until the word hardly sounded real any more.

Lew had to close his eyes again, and the sound of Dick's controlled grunts and pants, and their bodies colliding filled the room. Dick was whimpering under him now, and Lew kept thrusting, but he knew he didn't have long. "Jesus Christ," he said and slammed into Dick one last time, pushing them both across the counter. He saw stars and maybe heard angels sing, and none of it was as sweet as the image of Dick gasping and writhing under Lew, both their bodies overtaken with pleasure.

"Amen," Dick agreed, and laughed shakily.

Lew let his head drop onto Dick's shoulder, finally knocking his hat off, and focused on trying to find two stray thoughts to rub together. He had a vague idea that he was forgetting something, but that hardly seemed important. He wanted to stay like this inside Dick forever, but his knees wouldn't last much longer. Lew patted Dick's hip and pulled out. He went to find something to clean up with, and when he came out of the bathroom a minute later, Dick was still leaning hunched over the counter, breathing hard and a little brokenly. For a moment, Lew thought Dick was crying, but his eyes were dry.

"Are you all right?" Lew asked. He touched Dick's bare hip carefully, just brushing his fingertips along the place where the line of the bone stood out.

"No," Dick said, still not looking at Lew. "I haven't been all right for a long time, Lew. Not since..." His words faded out like he couldn't remember what being okay even meant. Maybe he couldn't.

"Yeah," Lew said, hand closing over the curve of Dick's hip. "Yeah. I know. I'm sorry." He wished more than anything that he could just force Dick to be all right again, but he didn't know if he had fortitude enough to go through with even his half-considered plan.

"Will you," Dick swallowed, and hesitated almost long enough for Lew to promise him anything in the world, right then and there. He really need to get clear and think. "Will you stay the night?" Dick asked finally, and Lew realised that Dick had expected him to drive back to Princeton that evening. Presumably he had some kind of illusion of Lew going to work before noon on the Monday after a holiday weekend. That had been why he'd jumped Lew the first chance he'd got.

"Of course," Lew said. "I'll drive you to work." At six in the goddamn morning, no less. 

"And you'll come back?" Dick's voice was almost too small to hear, but Lew was leaning in close anyway. It was costing him everything to ask for even this scrap of Lew's attention. "Sooner this time?"

Lew squeezed Dick's hip and didn't promise to move in that very moment, mostly because he knew living in this shithole apartment would be the end of him. Edith Winters had told Lew to make up his mind soon, but it didn't seem like he had that answer quite soon enough. He waited too long, and Dick stood abruptly fumbling to do up his pants. Lew focused on cleaning up the counter.

"I guess you're still thinking of moving to California, huh?" Dick said shortly.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Lew said. "When have I ever known what I was doing?" He'd forced Dick to admit that he needed Lew, before Lew even had a fucking clue if he could trust himself enough to let anyone need him ever again.

"Bastogne," Dick said without hesitation. "A hundred other times. I would never have survived without you."

Lew knew that was a lie, but couldn't take the fantasy away from Dick, so he didn't say anything about that either. He dropped the rag on the linoleum and kissed Dick fiercely. He wished he knew a way to tell Dick that if he did move across the country, it would be for Dick's sake not Lew's.

Dick let himself be kissed for a moment and then pulled away. "Nix, why did you come down this weekend?" he asked.

"I don't know," Lew said. "Missed you, I guess."

Dick's mouth twisted down the same way his mother's had Lew had suggested Dick would have been in any way better off in New Jersey. He didn't reply, but Lew could see the scorn in his eyes. Lew thought he could have taken that look if it had been directed outward, like it had been at the end of the war. Dick Winters loathing the whole world had been hard to stomach, but seeing Dick loathing himself was impossible. He thought Lew had come down to renew an old spark and found the fire well and truly dowsed. He thought that Lew had found something wrong with Dick, and now was trying to let Dick down gently before Lew fled for greener pastures on the far side of the Rockies. He thought he wasn't enough.

So Lew said the only thing he could say, the only thing he thought would keep Dick from self-immolating right in front of his eyes. "I came down here because I love you," he said, and he meant it. He just wished he knew if loving someone was enough to help them.

Dick shook his head, denying Lew's words, either because he didn't believe them or because he didn't think Lew believed them. Then he shut himself in the bathroom again.

"Fuck," Lew said with feeling. He leaned back against the counter he'd just screwed Dick into and lit a cigarette.

The sex had never been like this in Europe. It had been hurried and muffled most of the time, and had an intensity that Lew had never before encountered—but he'd never known someone as intense as Dick on any topic. It had never had the anger, the need to prove something that both times he'd fucked Dick here had. During the War, when they'd had something to say to each other, they'd talked.

"Fuck," Lew said again and breathed in a mouthful of smoke and held it until he could feel the nicotine smoothing his jangling nerves. He wished he hadn't already said he'd stay. Driving back to New Jersey was sounding like a damn good idea right now.

The lock on the bathroom clicked, and Dick emerged in shirtsleeves with a freshly washed face. Lew could see him making an effort to meet Lew's eyes instead of looking at the floor like he clearly wanted to. "I'm sorry, Lew," he mumbled. "I don't know what's the matter with me."

Lew couldn't think of anything to say to that, so dropped the cigarette in the sink and walked over to where Dick was standing limply by the door. Dick was still watching him, expression guarded but not angry, so Lew wrapped his arms around Dick and buried his face in Dick's shoulder.

Dick hugged him back so hard and for so long that Lew didn't think Dick was ever going to let him go.

When Dick pulled back, what felt like an hour later, his mask was back in place, and he said, "Let's go for a walk."

"Sure," Lew said, so they did.

* * *

**The Monday and Tuesday after Easter**

When he got back to Princeton the next morning, Lew scared the life out of his housekeeper, who'd rarely seen Lew at nine in the morning, and certainly never sober and on the right side of dawn. Lew gave her the day off and proceeded to drink with an intensity of purpose he hadn't felt since Operation Varsity had gone down in flames. He didn't know why this felt like getting shot out of the sky. Nothing was on fire and no one had died, but the same overwhelming helplessness and fear clawed up and dragged Lew under, like the hands of the devils reaching up through the stage at the end of _Don Giovanni_.

He was angry too, angry at Dick for not having his shit together, angry at the world for letting Dick down, angry that even Dick's mom seemed to expect Lew to be able to do something about it, and most of all angry at himself for not being the kind of man who would unselfishly give his life away for his best friend.

If it were a matter of stepping in front of a bullet, Lew knew that he would do it—even if he had time to think about it, he would do it—but farming? Lew would have to give up his comfortable, easy life, his allowance from his father; he would have to give up drinking, and dancing, and being able to do what he liked when he liked. He would have to give up not having to give a flying fuck about anything, which was the best damn part of not being in the army anymore, and he would have to do all that every day for the rest of his life. If he slipped and fucked up, like he usually did, he'd have participated in breaking the best man Lew had ever known, the man he loved.

Lew went hunting for a new bottle, leaving cupboards open as he pawed through them, and wondered when the hell he'd started thinking of Dick like that. It hadn't been during the war. All his emotions had been fogged together then: the terror mixing with lust mixing with a need to have something warm and living to hold onto. He and Dick had clung together like drowning men, and Lew at least had deliberately not thought about what that might mean.

Maybe it had been in France, the day before Lew had gotten on the train that was the first leg in a three-week journey back to New Jersey. Dick had come to his billet that night for what Lew had been hoping was a goodbye fuck, and instead explained—with an expression carved from stone—that he thought it would be best if after the war they let all this go. It had been a rehearsed speech, and Lew had waited for Dick to get to the end of it, not saying a word even when Dick explained how he didn't regret what they'd done, but that he didn't think it was the right way to go forward. He'd said that Mr. R.D. Winters was going to have to be a different man than Major Dick Winters; he was going to have to be a proper man. He'd said that he wanted to get married and have a family, and that he knew that Lew would too, once he was home. He'd told Lew that he should marry his young lady in Aldbourne, and start a new life with her. Dick had said that would be best for both of them. He'd sounded like he believed that was true.

Lew had said that sounded all right, because what else could a man say to a speech like that? He'd liked Irene, liked her a lot, maybe even loved her. Lew had been able see them being happy together, even if he had been beginning to understand that she was a fall back, not a first choice. Lew had trusted that Dick knew what was best, or maybe just that he knew better than Lew. Dick had at least known what he did not want, and that'd definitely sounded like it included Lew. Dick had seen something in Lew's expression then that made him ask if Lew was okay, and Lew had said that he was fine. He'd been saying that he was fine ever since.

Now, pouring himself another drink, Lew decided that that evening in Joigny had been when he'd finally understood exactly what Dick meant to him. In typical Lewis Nixon fashion, he hadn't known what he'd wanted until it was out of his reach. Even more typically, when offered a second chance, he found himself on the verge of retreat because he was too goddamn yellow even try to take it.

He'd been brave for Dick all through the war: had shown up every day, sober enough to function most of the time, and all of the time when it had mattered. Lew could say with reasonable confidence that men had not died on his watch because he'd been too inebriated to get the job done. So the real question was—Lew decided, as he let his head drop forward onto the table—was there anything left of Captain Lewis Nixon, Nix the intelligence and operations officer, or was it all just Mr. Lewis Nixon III, lifelong screw up?

The fact that he was afraid to find out the answer to that was not a good sign, Lew figured. He also figured he didn't have long before he passed out, and he was right on that one too.

* * *

Lew came to some six hours later, needing to piss and take a headache tablet. He immediately skinned his shin on an open cupboard door, and swore the rest of the way down the hall. The late afternoon sun got him right in the eyes coming into the bathroom, then he was staggering and vomiting what felt like three bottles of top-shelf scotch into the toilet bowl. He alternated splashing water on his face with drinking from the tap until he could stand upright without his head feeling like it was going to wobble off and bounce into a corner. Lew found a few aspirins and washed them back with a swallow from his hip flask.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered. If he missed anything about this life, it wasn't going to be the hangovers. Too bad he could never seem to remember what they were like when he thought drinking that much was a good idea.

He spent the next half hour wandering around the house looking in all the cupboards and closets trying to see if there was anything else he'd miss if he moved to Lancaster County and never looked back. Most of it was a mix of furniture rejected by the enemy in his divorce, and impulse purchases to fill the gaps. He had a picture of his kid in a christening gown, another of his mother and sister at Blanche's debut, a third of Lew and Dick in their PT gear at Toccoa, looking all of fifteen years old. Lew hadn't brought anything back from Europe except nightmares, had kept his ribbons but not his uniform or his jump boots. On the whole, Lew realised, his house didn't say a hell of a lot more about who lived there than Dick's apartment did, just that Lew drank more and could afford a decent couch. Lew could take the couch to Lancaster, if he wanted to.

He could also afford a phone. Lew slumped into the chair next to the telephone table, and thought about calling Dick. He'd still be at work, and probably wouldn't appreciate a call from a mostly sloshed Lew who still didn't know what the hell he was going to do. Kathy had a phone, but would appreciate hearing from Lew even less than Dick would. Blanche was visiting their mother at that hospice with the angry nurses, he thought. That left his father, and Lew was just far enough away from sober to decide what the hell and get the hello girl to put through a long-distance call to Florida.

By some miracle, Stanhope picked up the phone himself, and Lew didn't have to negotiate his way past the housekeeper or the latest wife. He sounded like he'd been drinking, but not much more than Lew.

"Hello, Dad," Lew said, and before Stanhope had the hypocrisy to ask how work was, entered in with a sally of, "What do you think about farming?"

The crackle of the long-distance connection echoed for a long time before Stanhope finally said, "I have no opinion whatsoever on farming."

"What about farmers?" Lew asked, not sure why he even cared what his father thought. If he'd been able to work that out about, say, twenty seven years ago, his life would likely have been a lot more straightforward.

Stanhope laughed. It had always sounded too much like Lew's laugh. "I'm sure farmers are useful individuals on whom the country relies. I don't think I've ever met one, myself. What's gotten into you, boy? You still thinking of moving out to Ryer Island?"

Lew had actually forgotten that his mother had a ranch out there. He wasn't sure he'd ever been on it, save maybe in the summer as a child. He had a vague memory of horses and sea air. "Maybe," Lew said. He say up straight and smoothed his shirt like Stanhope could see him, or like he'd care. "I was thinking about Pennsylvania, too."

This time the silence stretched so long that if it hadn't been for the interference, Lew would have thought he'd been hung up on. It had happened before. "This about that Winters fellow again?" Even over a thousand miles of trunk line, what Stanhope Nixon thought of Lew's war buddy was pretty damn clear.

That tone was exactly why Lew had never asked either of them what had happened during that disastrous interview. However, he was trying to be brave today, to see how he wore it, so he said, "Something to do with Winters, yeah."

Lew heard the clunk of glass on wood and Stanhope swallowing, and thought about another drink himself. He didn't know if it would help. "I never knew what you saw in that son of a bitch," Stanhope growled, and for the first time Lew wondered if it was jealousy that he heard. Was it that his father couldn't stomach his only son finally finding someone else to love? Lew felt a sudden twist in his gut, the kind of non-specific dread that usually indicated to a sniper or an air raid to follow.

"Well, I don't know, Dad," Lew said, "he's stalwart and true, kind to children and small animals, and once personally led a squad into two companies of SS because he wouldn't ask his men to do anything he wouldn't do himself." Though Christ knew Lew had never found any of that especially compelling before. All his college buddies were cut from the same cloth as Lew himself, and he'd never felt the same rip-tide pull towards any of the other officers he'd served with.

"He wasn't that brave when I met him," Stanhope said, and before Lew got the guts to ask, he explained smugly that during their one interview, he'd pulled a pistol on Lew's precious Dick Winters, just to see if he was all that. Dick had frozen rock solid in place, and hadn't been able to speak for several minutes. When Dick had finally pulled himself together—Stanhope didn't put it that kindly—he'd said in a shaking voice that he was no longer interested in working for Nixon Nitration, and walked out.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Lew said when Stanhope was done, and Lew had scraped his brain together enough to say anything at all. His heart was pounding hard just from hearing the story, and he realised that if he clenched the phone any harder, he was going to crack the casing. He couldn't sort the retroactive terror from the current rage, and both together made his head spin. He really wanted that drink now, but realised he'd left his flask in the kitchen after refilling it. "You're lucky he didn't take it that gun away from you and shoot you in the head," he snarled with more emotion than he usually let his father hear. Lew supposed that he too was lucky in that he hadn't found himself fatherless, and Dick certainly didn't need any more blood on his hands. It would have served Stanhope right, at least.

Stanhope started to reply, but another wave of nausea overtook Lew, and he slammed the receiver down. He didn't think he'd make the bathroom, so Lew put his head between his knees and took long, steady breaths until the room stopped spinning, and he could think about something other than the image of Dick's brains splattered all over his father's office. Lew had said he was Dick's friend, and then he'd sent him into that. Dick, of course, hadn't been able to bring himself to say an ill word about his best friend's father. Had he thought that Lew had been in on it? The wonder wasn't that he'd fled home and hadn't talked to Lew for four months, it was that Dick was still speaking to Lew at all. More than that, he'd still wanted Lew.

Lew wanted him back. He wondered if maybe it was as simple as loving someone. It could be that there was too much Nixon in Lew to ever make it work, but if there was a small possibility that he could chase down and become the man Dick Winters saw when he looked at him, would that not be worth it? Wasn't it better to at least try to be that man than to just fall into being his father through pure inertia? Lew remembered Edith's admonition regarding the danger of breaking her son's heart, but he thought it might be too late for that. The war was over, but they still clung to each other, and Lew trying and failing might not turn out to be any worse than making the cleanest break he could now.

The phone rang, and Lew unplugged it. It would be his father demanding to know how Lew dared to hang up on him. Lew still didn't know if his end destination was going to be Pennsylvania or California, but he was sure now that he was leaving New Jersey.

It had gotten too late to do anything productive that evening, but Lew walked down to the corner store and bought a few local papers, a farmer's almanac, and a meat pie. He would go to the library and the chamber of commerce the next day, and start working out how to make it happen.

* * *

This time Lew pulled up outside Dick's work only twenty minutes before he got out, and was able to pick him out of the pack of departing workers right away. That had in part to do with the fact that by his second day of the work week he wasn't looking quite as beat down as he had on the Thursday before, and party because Lew knew what both of Dick's suits looked like. Lew leaned across and popped the passenger door, asking, "Want a ride?"

"I usually walk, but all right," Dick said. The weather had finally turned and was just starting to spit rain, and Dick didn't have an umbrella. He slid across the bench seat until he was shoulder to shoulder with Lew, and didn't move as Lew pulled away from the curb. "I didn't think I'd see you around here this soon." Or, his tone implied, ever again.

"Tired of me already?" Lew asked. He'd meant the question as banter, but it came out almost accusing.

Dick squeezed Lew's knee, hand lingering for a moment on the inside of his thigh, and said, "No. You sounded like you had places to be."

"I needed to think," Lew said, and like with his mother, Lew saw Dick mentally add the word _drink_. Well, he wasn't wrong. "Last weekend was..."

"Overwhelming?" Dick supplied when Lew struggled with an adjective.

"Well, yeah," Lew agreed. "Among other things."

Dick really could have walked. Now that he knew the way, Lew realised that there were a couple of footpaths that reduced the trip to a handful of blocks. Still, Lew would drive Dick two hundred yards if it meant sitting close like this.

"How long can you stay this time?" Dick asked as they climbed the stairs. They still smelled like piss, and Lew still wanted to burn the whole building down. Lew wanted to burn down anything that made Dick sound as cautious as he did right now.

"That really depends on you," Lew said. He bounced a little on his heels as Dick fished for his keys. Dick was fogged out enough not to have commented on Lew's extra bag.

"Oh?" Dick asked, finally getting the door open. He hung his hat on its usual peg, so Lew put his right next to it. He liked looking at them hanging together.

"Yeah," Lew said. "If you want, I'll stay forever."

Dick had half turned toward the kitchen counter, but now he pivoted so fast his shoes squeaked. Lew watched his expression shift through hope, disbelief, frustration and finally forced humour. "I'll need a bigger bed."

"Yes you will," Lew agreed fervently. "But listen, I've got it all worked out. I'll show you after we eat.

"Eat?" Dick made a face, and Lew figured that he'd just remembered the groceries that he hadn't brought.

"I've worked that out too," Lew said, and started pulling casserole dishes out the smaller suitcase.

Dick narrowed his eyes. He was starting to see the set up, but it was too damn late. "Those are my mother's," he said.

"Yup," Lew agreed. "I stopped by so she could check my numbers, and she gave us dinner."

"What the hell, Lew?" Dick asked. He was getting angry, and Lew realised that he needed to stop pulling his pigtails, as fun as it was.

"Set the table, and I'll explain," Lew told him. He felt light headed, and didn't even check that the curtains were closed before leaning over and kissing Dick on the cheek. Christ, if this worked, he'd be able to kiss Dick any time he wanted. Edith had sent mashed potatoes, asparagus and a pair of pork chops. Lew thought maybe he could cook something this simple, if not this well. He might try learning.

Dick set out plates, cutlery, and glasses of water, movements stiff with suppressed emotion, so Lew filled the plates and cleared the serving dishes away. He hated waiting even a moment more, but Dick looked so tired and hungry that he made himself hold back. He could see Dick barely suppressing a demand for an answer now, but he held back. Maybe he wanted to wait for Lew to lay it out his way, or maybe the smell of his mother's cooking was a stronger pull. They both wolfed down the meal in minutes. Lew was never going to be this good a cook.

"Okay," Dick said, licking his fork clean, "so what do you want to show me?"

Lew spread his papers out in the middle of the table. "Look," he said, "this isn't just for you. I was talking about California before because I need to get away from New Jersey. I didn't think of Pennsylvania because, well, because of what you said in Joigny, about wanting to stop, and then turning down the Nixon job." Lew held up a hand to shush Dick. "Hey, I don't want that job either; that's why I'm here."

"You're getting a job in Lancaster?" Dick asked, brightening a little. Lew had hit on something he could imagine was possible, and Dick wanted it. That had been the sticking point in this whole plan. For all that Dick had asked Lew to stay when he was fucked out and desperate, Lew didn't know if Dick had meant that as a weekend thing, or something more serious. Lew hadn't wanted to ask until he himself knew what he himself was willing to offer. Now he would lay his whole idea at Dick's feet and wait for his answer.

"Lebanon County, actually," Lew said. He took a breath, hesitated while he worked up the courage to say it, and then blurted, "And so are you." Dick blinked, and before he could ask Lew what the hell he was talking about again, Lew pushed through the piles of paper until he found the original circled ad, now torn out of Dick's copy of _Lancaster Farming_. He put a land survey and a property inventory next to it, and thumped his finger down in the middle of the pile.

Dick sighed. "Turkey farming? Lew, I don't think..."

"Just listen," Lew said. He needed to get through the whole plan before Dick started picking it apart. "We get the farm. It's mostly brush and trouble, but the house and barns are in good shape, and we can convert one of the buildings into a hatchery, to start, more later. Look I've broken down the costs." He pulled out a piece of graph paper with his loopy scrawl over half of it, and Edith's amendments in neat black ink beside. Despite himself, Dick took the page and started following the columns with his finger. "We can get a loan through the GI Bill," Lew said, "And there's a government incentive through the National Poultry Improvement Plan, if we hatch certain breeds. The market is exploding right now, and the bigger hatcheries can't keep up with demand. It's a perfect time." They were a bit late in the season, but they would make do, and he could probably get a better deal on the property because it hadn't moved in months.

Dick got to the end of the page of figures and looked up at Lew, studying his expression, trying to tell if he meant this. "I don't know anything about hatcheries, Lewis," he said. His voice was soft and a little annoyed, like he still thought Lew was trying to sell him on a pipe dream, and Dick was trying to work out how to let him down easy.

"Penn State has a four-week extension course on farm management. Registration is still open, classes start on the F&M campus in two weeks. Also covered under the GI Bill." Lew flipped through for the registration paperwork and course leaflet. "And I got a book about hatcheries." Lew had stolen it from the library actually, but he had strong intentions to replace it once he found where to buy one. "Here's a timetable. If you want to do this, we're going to have to get a move on, but I think it's possible."

It was the timetable that did it. Dick's lips parted in a shocked _O_ and his eyes got wider as he read down the list of dates and operational goals. Edith had rewritten the budget numbers along the side in a running tally. He read it three times, and then when he was done, he looked up at Lew and said, "Really?"

"Yeah," Lew said, he couldn't help grinning at Dick, because he felt like this was it, that he'd sold the plan. "Yeah, really."

"I don't understand," Dick said, and there went that.

Lew sighed. "We buy a turkey farm, convert it to a hatchery, turn eggs into baby chickens, sell the baby chickens and buy more eggs, etcetera and so on, and live together in pastoral harmony forever and ever amen." He stopped, realising that the problem wasn't the farming, it was Lew. Lew who'd just been a colossally presumptive idiot. California wasn't going to be far enough. Lew was going to have to move to Australia. "I, uh... I thought that's what you wanted. I thought you wanted me." He realised how utterly pathetic that sounded, and tried to amend it to, "Wanted me to stay, I mean," which only made it sound worse. He looked down at the pile of papers in front of him, all the work he'd thrown together in the last twenty four hours. "You can keep all this. It's not..."

"Nix!" Dick snapped, and Lew fell silent. If he'd been standing, he would have come to attention. Dick let the timetable drift back to the table, and held out both hands in a staying motion. "Nix, you showed up out of the blue after four months of nothing, took me on this whirlwind romance, told me you loved me, and then cut me loose. I spent the last two days trying to figure how I was going to back to getting through without you to... I don't know. Actually, I was sore as hell at your for promising to come every weekend on Friday afternoon, and then just leaving Monday morning without saying when you'd be back, or if you'd be back at all." He rubbed his face, and grimaced. "I sound like a bad Sinatra tune, for Pete's sake. Now here you are again—having conspired with my mother—talking what? Marriage?" Dick pointed at the stack of papers between them. "This isn't a game. I can't quit my job and throw in with you if I don't know you mean it, and that you'll still mean it three days or three months or three years from now."

Put like that, especially combined with the rest of Lew's life out of uniform, Lew could see how Dick didn't think he was the definition of reliability. This was doubtless what was meant about whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. "I do mean it, Dick," Lew said, trying not to sound hurt by having the worst he'd thought of himself thrown in his face again. "I know I've messed up, well, pretty much my whole life, but I mean this. I'm going to do everything I can to stick with you. If that's what you want." Lew had been so sure that he was the problem, not Dick. He'd thought that if he could just commit to something, anything really, he'd get to have it, if he fought he'd win. But when he thought back on it, Lew wasn't the only one who'd run hot and cold. Dick had been the one to drop him after the war, and he hadn't called for all those months either, nor outright said that he wanted Lew to stay. Maybe it was selfish to want to know if he had a parachute before he jumped, but he'd already promised all of this, and Dick still didn't believe him. He wanted to be a little more sure before he actually got down on his knees and begged. "Is it?"

"I..." Dick looked down at the papers, the remains of his dinner, the stained linoleum, and then finally he looked at Lew. He looked as unhappy now as he had the first time Lew had seen him five days ago, and almost as tired. "I don't know," he said. "It's not fair to ask me like this, and not give me time to think."

The misery on Dick's face was as much a punch in the gut as his words, which weren't unfair. Dick hadn't been the one to flee in a panic two days ago. "How much time?" Lew asked. Should he be packing his bag for Princeton? For California? The moon? He felt like he just about deserved hell for making Dick feel that low.

Dick shook his head. "Go for a walk. Come back in an hour. I'll look at this and..." He rubbed a hand over his mouth, and God he looked so tired. "I'll have an answer in an hour. I can't think straight around you, Lew."

Lew stood, encouraged by that at least. He should have walked out and let Dick be, but he couldn't bring himself to give up the fight that easily. He leaned down and kissed the corner of Dick's jaw, feeling stubble rough under his lips, and said into his ear, "I do love you. I never stopped, even after Joigny when you said I shouldn't. I won't stop now, no matter what you decide you want."

Lew straightened, deliberately not looking at Dick, not wanting to see his expression. He collected his hat, and then walked out into the night. He only remembered that it had been raining when he got out, and realised that he didn't have an umbrella either.

The Buick was sitting by the curb with its top up. Lew could just drive around. Dick had just wanted to have his apartment back for an hour, and didn't care if Lew walked, drove, or stood on one foot in the stairwell. But somehow Dick saying to walk meant that Lew needed to walk. Maybe it was just a good luck charm, or that somehow following Dick's instructions even when he couldn't see would signal that Lew was worth keeping around. Maybe it was just perversity. Whatever the cause, Lew flipped his collar up to cover the back of his neck, jammed his hands in his pockets, picked a direction, and started walking.

In retrospect, he should have remembered that Dick didn't especially care for surprises, disliked especially being cornered, and took both even worse when he was tired. Lew had just been so damn sure that he'd been wrapping everything Dick had ever wanted, himself included, in a neat package and holding it out like an offering. Dick received it more in the spirit of a lobbed grenade, and Lew was just lucky there hadn't been serious returning fire.

As Lew waited for a break in traffic, he tried to hope that when Dick got a chance to think about it, he would realise that Lew meant everything he'd said, and this wasn't just some cock-eyed scheme. He had done all his research, more than he had since Austria, on any topic, and Dick would see that the plan was sound. He had promised that he loved Dick, and had made it sound as heartfelt he was capable of. He had walked away instead of pushing. Maybe all of that would stack up on one side of Dick's mental scales and somehow outweigh the rest of Lew's fuck ups. Maybe all of that would mean enough that Dick wouldn't again decide that it would be easier or better to try to be a proper man, and leave whatever he'd had with Lew in the past.

Lew had said that he wanted that. Three days ago, he'd been trying to think how to get Dick a wife, because he just wanted to see Dick happy, by any means and with anyone. Lew hadn't thought that it could be with him, not until he'd talked to Edith, and then later Dick had begged him to stay the night. Lew hadn't counted himself as more than a pleasant distraction until then, some weekend fun until Dick found the woman he was meant to be with. He should still be thinking like that. It was more realistic to hope to keep things going with Dick until he found someone better. Dick had seemed happy with the idea of seeing Lew on the weekends, and even with Lew moving to Lancaster. It was the bigger steps that put him off.

If Lew were a better man, he'd agree to give Dick space or help as he needed it, and then be willing to walk away when Dick didn't want him any more.

Too bad he was Lewis Nixon III, and not in any way a better man. Now that Lew had told Dick the truth and sworn his intent, he seemed to expect something in return. Lew could tell himself that Dick didn't owe him anything all he wanted, but if he walked back into that shithole apartment in the next hour and Dick told him to go to hell, it'd be a real kick in the teeth.

Lew should have stayed in Princeton, and either just come up on the weekends, or left just Dick alone. This plan of his was only going to hurt them both. Christ, Lew was tired of hurting.

The light on the pavement in front of him changed, and Lew looked up to see the neon lights of the kind of bar that Dick's proverbial good working people were not supposed to go to. Lew wondered how many of the denizens worked at Dick's very Mennonite farm-implement factory. He hesitated, hand on the door. There were still about forty minutes left on his clock, and he was already soaked through. He could just duck in to dry out and have a quick drink to warm up a bit. Lew hadn't been this cold and wet since Joigny, in all of its muddy infamy.

That night in Joigny had been a mistake. Lew should have fought for Dick, instead of just giving in to what Dick thought was best. He should have told Dick what he'd felt, even if he hadn't yet been able to put it exactly into words. Lew should have answered his high-handed declaration that they'd both be better off without each other by kissing Dick senseless. He should have asked him what had gone wrong in that interview with Stanhope four months ago. He should have come to Lancaster before so much time had gone by. He shouldn't have left without explanation two days ago. He definitely shouldn't go in the bar now.

Lew pulled his hand back and turned away from the door. It was probably a messed up way to live, but if he kept making his choices based on what might make Dick Winters love him even just a little more, maybe he could turn his life into something after all. Lew hunched his shoulders and walked back into the rain.

He was enough of a realist to know that he would not hold long without any kind of reward, but his imagined virtue warmed him a little, so he held on to it. It would do for tonight. If Dick sent him packing, Lew would have other, older sources of consolation, and no one to care what he did anyway.

Lew turned back the way he'd come after exactly thirty minutes, and returned to Dick's apartment some time after nine. It occurred to him that the simplest answer would be found if Dick had locked his door, but he hadn't. Lew stood for a second with his hand on the jamb, bracing for whatever was to come. He promised that he'd be a man about whatever happened next, even if it was a broken heart.

Dick was hovering just inside the door, clearly waiting for Lew, his expression closed. He opened his mouth to say whatever preamble he'd come up with to soften the blow, then looked Lew up and down and blurted, "For crying out loud, you're soaked through!"

"It was raining," Lew said pathetically. He was dripping on Dick's floor. He took off his hat to hang it next to Dick's but it was falling out of shape.

"What? You couldn't have..." Dick started, then shook his head. He peeled Lew out of his jacket, and then seeing that Lew's shirt was wet and clinging, started on his buttons. "You'll catch your death," he muttered.

Lew caught Dick's wrists and squeezed them hard enough to pull his attention back. As much as he wanted Dick to strip him and do whatever naturally followed, Lew needed to know. "Dick," was all he said. It was all he had to say.

Dick visibly steeled himself, taking a breath and straightening his shoulders. His jaw tightened, and he looked Lew right in the eye before he asked, "Can you promise me four years?"

That was a little under how long they'd known each other. Lew had promised forever, and Dick wanted until spring 1950. That was probably all he could believe.

"Yeah," Lew said. "I promise you four years, Dick." Four years on a farm to follow four years of war. Maybe Lew's scales would begin to balance by the end of that, but he didn't think so.

"This is really what you want?" Dick asked. His wrists were tense in Lew's hands, and Lew could feel Dick's pulse pounding. Lew hadn't realised how cold he was until he touched Dick's skin.

Lew wanted to say that of course it was, and call Dick an idiot, but he wasn't going to make any sudden movements in case he startled Dick off. He nodded slowly, and said, "This is really what I want, I swear."

"Good." Dick let out a long sigh and seemed to get smaller when it was done. He'd been almost Major Winters again a moment before, an officer bracing himself for the worst. Now he stood unsure and coltish with Lew still holding his arms. "I missed you, Nix," he said. He'd said it before, but it had so much pathos wrapped up in it this time that Lew had to draw him into his arms, soaking wet or not. Lew pulled Dick's head down to his shoulder and stroked his hair.

"We're going to make this work," he murmured. "I promise."

"Four years," Dick said, words muffled against Lew's neck. His shoulders shook, and Lew held him tighter.

Forever, Lew thought again. "I can't believe you're going to make a farmer out of me," he said, and Dick laughed.

"It's your plan, Nix," Dick said, and kissed him.

* * *

**May Day**

Eight days later, Lew pulled up just as Dick was walking out of the factory door. He'd been worried that he'd make it in time. It hadn't seemed like this day was ever going to end.

"Hey," Dick said as he dropped into the Roadmaster. Lew had the top down, but now wished there was some kind of privacy so he could kiss Dick hello. He still wasn't used to the possessive glow that filled his chest every time he saw Dick now. "Thanks for picking me up."

"Have to now," Lew said. "You're out an apartment." He'd finished moving Dick's things out that morning, one of the endless trips between Lancaster and the farm in Lebanon County. This would hopefully be the last one of the day.

"I could have stayed with my parents, Nix. It'd save driving back every day."

Lew didn't want to spend another night apart for the rest of their lives, but saying that kind of thing seemed to spook Dick, so instead he squeezed Dick's knee and said, "I like driving."

Dick laughed. "You can take all the deliveries in the truck then." They had, of course, bought a truck. Lew had been driving it all day to move what he was keeping of his things up from Princeton, Dick's things from his apartment, and roughly a tonne of stuff that Edith Winters thought they should have.

"I like driving my car," Lew amended. He glanced sideways at Dick as they got out of Lancaster onto the country roads. He looked pale and drawn, worry lines digging into his forehead. "Hey, you okay?"

"Just tired," Dick said. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes; the cool evening air disarranging his hair. Lew wanted to stroke it smooth again, but kept both hands on the wheel. He was tired too, the kind of tired that made mistakes on smooth country roads at night.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Lew asked. "I'll wake you when we turn off."

"Sure," Dick murmured, closed his eyes, and was out like Lew had flipped a switch.

Lew drove on for the next hour. He wished he could sleep too. The last week had been dawn to dusk work in a way that he'd forgotten he knew how to do. Dick had been working out his two-weeks notice, and Lew had been left with most of the organising and physical moving of heavy objects—though he'd hired a couple of local boys to help out today. Even knowing that making the start would be the worst of it hadn't made Lew enjoy it any more. It turned out that he didn't like that kind of labour any more now than he had in boot camp.

But it was done now, and he couldn't wait to see what Dick thought of it. He nudged Dick awake as he turned onto a gravel side road that twisted for half a mile before they found their driveway. The headlights caught the house number, and Lew heard Dick sigh softly. Lew promised himself would put their names up, as soon as he had the chance. _Winters & Nixon Hatchery_, since Dick had won the coin toss over precedence.

"This is ours," Dick said as Lew turned in.

"Potholes and all," Lew agreed. Nothing on earth was going to make him give up the Buick, but he had to admit that it wasn't meant for these kinds of roads.

"Hush," Dick said, punching Lew's arm. He was out of the car before Lew had even put the parking break on, dashing up the front steps, wanting to see everything. They'd been up on the weekend, before they'd signed the papers, but it wasn't the same. Lew fussed with putting the top up and then followed, grinning as Dick bounced on the creaky step and frowned down at it. Lew expected a prioritised list of things that needed to be fixed by morning.

"If I put anything in the wrong place, you have to help me move it," Lew said. They crossed the covered porch together, and Lew led the way into their house. Lew hit the lights when they got in, then trailed after Dick as he moved from room to room, checking where Lew had put their furniture. "We need new curtains," Lew said, "And the kitchen is a little sparse if we're planning to cook, well, presumably anything." Edith had given them the new post-rationing edition of _The Joy of Cooking_ as a house warming gift, but Lew still didn't have much optimism in that regard.

"This is my room?" Dick asked. It was the smallest of the three, and now had his narrow bed, dresser, desk, and shelf installed. Lew had abandoned the couch in Lancaster.

"Yeah." Lew came up behind him, putting a hand on Dick's shoulder. "You don't have to actually sleep in it. In fact, I'd be disappointed if you did."

Dick leaned back against Lew, and Lew put his arms around his waist and stood on tiptoe so he could rest his chin on Dick's shoulder. "Where's your room?"

"Our room," Lew corrected, and took Dick by the hand and led him to the south west corner of the house, the one that faced away from the road and would get all the afternoon sun. He'd even bothered to make up the bed in that one, the nice wide bed that would fit two grown men with room to roll over. Lew left the hall light on, but didn't turn on any of the bedroom lamps. The curtains were pulled, and Lew thought the neighbours were too far to see, but he hadn't had time to properly scout out the sight lines.

Dick stopped in the doorway, looking around the shadowed space with wide eyes. Finally his gaze rested on the home-made quilt folded across the bottom of the bed. His grandmother had made it, he'd said as they'd been shoving things in boxes the night before. "Our house," he said, sounding a little stunned.

"Yes," Lew said. "Our house. Our room. Our bed. Isn't there some old Mennonite tradition about having sex to fertilise the land?"

"That was the Romans, Lew," Dick said, laughing, "and I don't know if it goes for chickens, but I'm willing to give it a try."

"Fantastic," Lew said, and pulled him into the room.

They undressed each other between kisses, movements slower and more familiar than they had been in the past weeks. Maybe it had been mentioning the Mennonites or Romans or whatever, but it did feel something like a ritual. Lew kissed Dick hungrily and ran his hands up and down his arms and his sides and through his hair. He wanted to touch every part of him, to never stop touching him. It felt so good to lean into Dick's bare chest and feel his heart pounding against his skin. Dick kissed him harder and ran his nails up and down Lew's back. Lew shoved his hands down Dick's pants, grabbing his ass and pulling their bodies together. The grind of their cocks through their clothes felt fucking amazing, but Lew wanted more.

"Damn," he muttered.

Dick broke off nibbling his ear long enough to ask, "What?"

"I..." Lew hesitated, running another mental inventory of the piles of boxes, and again came up blank. "I have no idea where I packed the Vaseline." The kitchen things weren't unpacked yet either.

"Huh, we'll have to improvise then," Dick said, and dropped to his knees in front of Lew.

Lew swallowed, and looked away because seeing the gleam of lamplight from the hall catching Dick's hair, at the same time as Dick's hands worked Lew's fly open, would be too much. He wanted to run his hands through Dick's hair while Dick sucked him off, but Dick didn't do more than lick his cock and then push him back towards the bed. Lew stepped out of his pants and let himself be herded.

Dick stripped the rest of the way as he climbed onto the bed on top of Lew. He pushed Lew's shoulders down like he had that second night, and kissed him down into the bed. Lew ran his hands down Dick's ribs and over his ass, still not quite over how everything was his to touch for as long as he wanted. Dick felt so good under his hands, and now he was kissing his way down Lew's chest towards his cock, and Lew didn't think he could have done anything do deserve it, but this had to be heaven. Dick rested his chin on Lew's hip bone and looked back up his body. His eyes were still wide, but the worry lines had faded, and he was smiling like Lew was in for some kind of trouble. Lew wished he were close enough to kiss, but also wanted to know what the trouble was.

"Here," Dick said, and twisted around so that he was kneeling next to Lew's head with his hands on either side of Lew's hips. "Let's try this. Do you mind?"

Lew rubbed his face against Dick's thigh, and reached down to give his fingers to Dick to suck. His mouth was hot and insistent and about to be on Lew's cock for real. "I definitely do not mind," Lew said. He stroked Dick's stomach and sides until Dick shifted to spread his legs so that he was crouching astride Lew's face. His cock bumped into Lew's chin at the same time as Dick leaned in and took the tip of Lew's cock in his mouth. Lew squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the vision of strong thighs and red hair, and tried to block the sound of Dick sloppily sucking at his cock. The feel of his lips sliding up and down was too much already. Lew had to get in gear, or he'd just lie here and take it, without giving anything back.

He leaned up blindly, nuzzling the back of Dick's cock until he found his balls. Lew rubbed his face against them, knowing his stubble would burn a little, and Dick moaned. The vibration travelled down Lew's cock and sent waves of pleasure through his body, making him gasp and and suck at Dick's balls. He licked between them and then curled his lips around his teeth and pulled one into his mouth. Dick shuddered over him and sucked harder sinking down on Lew until Lew's cock bumped the back of his mouth. He knew Dick couldn't swallow him all the way down, but he seemed like he was trying. Lew pulled away enough to press his tongue hard against the soft place behind Dick's cock, and then lick again.

Every move he made echo through both their bodies, intensifying and building on itself. He pushed at Dick's hips, making him kneel up a little more—which made Dick's mouth sink down further onto Lew's cock—and shuffled down enough to take the tip of Dick's cock between his lips. Dick moaned and rolled his tongue around his mouth, making Lew inhale sharply and suck harder than he'd meant. He could feel Dick's legs shaking with effort on either side of him, and Dick's mouth working almost desperately along Lew's shaft. His head bobbing up and down rocked his hips into Lew's mouth, and Lew had to raise his head to follow them up. He wanted to make Dick feel as good as he did, but he was having trouble focusing on anything except trying to keep sucking, and clenching his hands on Dick's hips, and how damn good Dick's mouth felt.

Lew realised that he was jerking his hips up, and tried to lie still and let Dick do his thing, but his whole body felt out of control. He lifted his head to swallow Dick right down to the root, his teeth brushing lightly, and Dick made a muffled screaming sound, and dug his fingers into Lew's thighs. Lew reached around to press his fingertip into Dick's asshole, and Dick writhed and sobbed against him. They were both losing control, and Lew was determined to pull Dick over the edge first. He wanted to feel the sounds he made as he came. He swallowed hard around the head of Dick's cock, and a the same time pushed his finger in just far enough to find the right spot.

Dick's hips jerked down driving Lew to the edge of choking, and he came with a long, low whimper. His lips and tongue worked around Lew's cock convulsively, and he kept moaning. His come filled Lew's mouth, hips slowing to a steady roll, and at the same time he kept whimpering and sucking. Lew didn't think Dick even knew what he was doing any more, but was acting on pure need. He was instinctively doing everything he could to make Lew feel good even as his own brain shorted out from pleasure. Lew wished there was a way to to this and talk at the same time, because he wanted to tell Dick how perfect he was, and how much Lew loved him, and would always love him.

Dick drew a deep breath through his nose and pulled away, dragging his lips and tongue all the way up the length of Lew's cock. He stopped right at the tip and sucked hard, and that finally was more than Lew could hold on for. His fingers dug into Dick's hips, needing something to hold onto while wave after wave of pleasure rolled through him. He was still sucking lightly at Dick's now spent cock, and he didn't ever want to stop. Lew wanted to stay just like this until they were ready to go again. He wanted to keep making each other feel good forever. He'd promised Dick forever.

Dick collapsed sideways as Lew finished, and for a moment they were a tangle of arms and legs. Dick's cock slid out of Lew's mouth, and Lew ended up pillowing his head on Dick's knee. He still wanted to keep doing this, but suddenly he felt too exhausted to do anything but crawl under the blankets and sleep. Lew leaned up to kiss Dick's cock, and then the inside of his thigh. Dick was lying on his side, head propped up on his arm looking down at how their bodies lay together. He looked a little sad, so Lew squirmed around until he could kiss him.

"Are you okay?" he asked when he pulled away.

"Don't want to go to work tomorrow," Dick complained. He fell forward onto Lew and rested his head right over Lew's heart.

Lew laughed, and Dick boxed his ear half heartedly. "I'll drive you," Lew said before he could think better of it. It was only four more work days. Lew could do early for four days. He'd have a break over the weekend, anyway. As much of a break as frantically converting a Turkey barn into a chicken hatchery, while Dick stalked all over the property trying to improve everything at once, was going to be.

Dick really must have been wiped out, because he agreed instead of arguing.

They were going to have to work out how to get under the covers eventually, but right now Dick was warm and listless in his arms, and moving seemed impossible. Lew kissed his hair and asked, "Think that'll satisfy the Romans?"

Dick's laugh tickled the hair on Lew's chest. "I think we're supposed to do it out in the fields."

"Is that so?" Lew asked, suspecting Dick was stringing along a joke, but not really caring. He considered what Dick would look like naked and spread out beneath Lew in the long grass, skin warm and sun kissed. When he got back the next day, he was going to work out exactly what and where the neighbours could see. "Well, I guess we can try that too."

That little possessive glow had grown and warmed until Lew's chest hurt from how much he felt. He wished he could find a way to tell Dick, wished he knew how to write poetry, but all the corniest love songs by all the crooners in the world didn't seem like they could sum it up. "I want to teach you to dance," Lew said. There had to be a way to show Dick what he felt.

"Mmm," Dick said sleepily. "Watch out for your feet."

Lew wanted to tell Dick that he could step on Lew's feet every day for the rest of their lives, if he wanted to, and it would be worth it just to hold him in his arms. Lew wished the English language wasn't such a failure, and that all the lies he'd told and been told hadn't made them both question the sentiment behind everything Lew said. He realised that he had four years to show Dick with every action in every day how much he meant to Lew. That should have felt immense and overwhelming, but to Lew it felt about right. It felt like the size of the thing in his heart: fourteen hundred and sixty days to make Dick forget that he hadn't asked for forever in the first place.

It started today, so Lew kissed Dick's hair again, and then got up to find their toothbrushes and the shorts Dick liked to sleep in. He pulled back the covers so that they could climb in bed together and sleep in their new home for the first time.

* * *

**The Feast of Ascension**

Lew was cutting brush back from the driveway—one of a handful of labour-related farm tasks he actually enjoyed—when Dick found him. He was grinning wider than Lew had ever seen, and wouldn't say what he wanted, just that Lew had to come to the hatchery with him.

Given that it was three weeks since they'd set the first batch of eggs, Lew had a pretty good idea what was happening, and hustled to follow Dick down the drive. Dick was almost skipping ahead, and Lew found himself grinning at his enthusiasm. All those weeks of rebuilding barns, and negotiating contracts, and charming local farmers—which Dick turned out to be way better at, much to Lew's chagrin. All the nights of staying up turning eggs and then falling into bed with Dick just a few hours before he got up. All the long drives back and forth to Lancaster as Dick finished at the factory and then started his classes. The terrifying stormy night when the power had gone out, and they'd struggled to get the generator running, and the eggs had almost gotten cold and died, All of that was paying off now.

Lew felt his heart pounding as he washed his hands and kicked off his boots to change into the hatchery coveralls and clogs. Dick was changing just as fast, his hair ruffled and needing a cut, his cheeks glowing with excitement. The hatchery was warm and smelled of disinfectant and traces of the warm spring air the fans vented in. Dick passed by the racks of eggs with their heat lamps and wet and dry thermometers, to the hatching tray, where they'd moved the first batch of eggs two days before. He knelt on the floor in front of it, and peered into the narrow gap between the heat lamp and the sides. Lew knelt next to him, their shoulders pressed against each other.

"Don't lift the lid," Dick said, and Lew glared sideways at him. Of course he wasn't going to lift the lid. Dick had been reading the damn poultry hatching manual aloud every night for almost five weeks. Lew was starting to hear the damn thing in his dreams. He had a perfectly good view through the gap, anyway.

About four dozen eggs were evenly spaced across the tray, or four dozen less two that had rolled over and showed cracks, and one that had broken open completely. A tiny brown chick rested on its splayed legs, looking around slowly. Its feathers were still wet and clinging to its body save for a few licks of fluff on the top of its head. Lew stared at it, and it stared back, then cheeped.

Dick made a small, melting noise that sounded a lot like "Awww." Lew glanced sideways at him to see if he'd heard right, and then couldn't tear his eyes away from Dick's enraptured expression. His lips were parted and pulled up in to a small, amazed smile and his eyes were bright. Lew leaned over and kissed his cheek, smiling despite himself. "No, look," Dick said.

Lew turned back to the tray just in time to see a tiny clawed foot break through one of the fallen eggs, and then the whole shell split open. The chick stretched its feet in the air, pushing the pieces of shell away, and then rocked its body until it tumbled upright. The first chick cheeped again, and the new one cheeped back.

"Awww," Lew said before he could help himself. Dick laughed at him, and bumped their shoulders together again.

Another egg rolled over on its side, and another. The first chick's feathers were drying and it began to transform into a small yellow-brown ball of fluff. It wobbled back towards its eggshell and pecked at it with its tiny, soft beak.

Dick took Lew's hand and squeezed, and Lew squeezed back, wondering how the hell this had turned out to be his life. A third chick started to emerge, but got its foot stuck. Lew wanted to reach in to help it, but knew that they were supposed to let them find their way free on their own. It had been in the damn hatchery book. Beside him, Dick's mouth twitched down, and his hand clenched around Lew's. Then the chick rocked its body against the egg and pushed free, arching its stubby wings in triumph. It fell forward on its face, and Lew heard Dick's breath catch.

"You know this is going to take hours," Lew said. His knees were sore from kneeling on the cement floor, and he had a strange ache in his chest the he wanted to get away from.

"Yeah," Dick breathed. "We shouldn't move them yet, not until they're mostly dry. There can be some dampness around the neck feathers still. If they stay under the light too long, they'll get dehydrated." He was quoting the damn hatchery manual. He must have the thing nearly memorised by now. He was entranced. He wasn't letting go of Lew's hand.

Seeing the next obstacle looming, Lew glanced at his watch, and said, "When they're ready to go, I can drive them over to Van Delft's." It was late afternoon now, give at least six hours for hatching, and another for drying. "Too late tonight. We can drop them in the morning when I take you to F&M."

Dick pressed his lips together and glanced sideways at Lew, but didn't say anything. Lew had sensed the desire to keep these first chicks rising, and they really could not. The best he could do was let Dick carry the transport box in his lap as far as Van Delft's Poultry. The first and hopefully only batch of chicks to be delivered in a sky-blue Roadmaster convertible. The rest would get to ride in the damn truck.

The first chick waddled over to the second, its whole body swaying with each step, and then fell over into it, knocking them both down. "Awww," both Lew and Dick said at the same time, and Lew felt his throat tighten. It seemed so astonishing that they had done this. Here knelt a pair of soldiers who'd never proven themselves at anything but war, and they'd built this together. They'd taken an old piece of land that wouldn't sell and turned it into a healthy and growing place. Maybe Dick didn't quite believe it was true—though Lew thought he might be starting to—but after all that killing, they'd found love.

"Maybe," Lew said, then swallowed and licked his lips. "We're getting paid by the head, right? Maybe we could keep one or two, as laying hens?" They could keep them in a cardboard box in the house to stay warm and avoid contaminating the hatchery. He and Dick would have some kind of coop built by the time they were big enough to go outside.

"It'd be good to have fresh eggs," Dick agreed mildly, but his fingers tightened over Lew's. When Lew glanced at him, he turned his face away and but not far enough that Lew couldn't see him blinking hard.

"Okay," Lew said. He should get up, finish cutting brush, give Dick some privacy as he knelt on the floor getting teary-eyed over yellow-brown fluff balls. He shifted his weight, preparing to stand.

Dick yanked on his hand until they fell together, and then kissed Lew fiercely. "Thank you," he said when he drew away, and his eyes had the promise of forever in them.

"Yeah," Lew said. "Any time."


End file.
